


Nothing is Ever Easy

by kalikala28



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abduction, Accidental Voyeurism, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkwardness, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Grace Sharing, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, I'm Bad At Tagging, Jealous Dean Winchester, Jealousy, Kinda, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Miscommunication, Multi, Mutual Pining, My First Destiel Fanfic, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Poor Sam, Restraints, Sam Ships It, Seriously guys, Shameless Smut, Some Humor, Switch Castiel, Switch Dean, Tags May Change, Use Your Words, cas/oc is not what you think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-20 02:46:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 26,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2412125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalikala28/pseuds/kalikala28
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set sometime after season 10, with the assumption that Castiel gets his grace back and Gabriel is alive and kinda takes over Heaven. Sam and Dean are enjoying the relative quiet of regular monster hunts, with no imminent world ending drama, but Castiel is acting a bit strangely, which probably means that their life is about to get all fucked up again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dean swiped the sudsy rag around the plate, set it in the other basin of the sink to be rinsed and picked up another. Sam loved to give him shit for it, but Dean liked doing the dishes. He liked how easy it was to just wipe the mess away, liked how-- with just a little soap and water-- he could make them like new again.

If only every problem could be dealt with so easily.

If he was totally honest (and he would never admit it out loud), he liked how simply domestic the act was. Washing the dishes reinforced the idea that this bunker was his and Sam’s place, their home. For so long they had eaten off pizza boxes and fast food wrappers, that the fact that they even had dishes that needed to be cleaned so they could be used again-- and again-- never failed to give him a small measure of peace.

The drawback, of course, was that it was mindless work, and Dean’s mind unoccupied often wandered to places that he’d rather not go. Like now, for instance. He had been wondering where all their forks kept disappearing off to, which for some inexplicable reason made him remember watching _The Little Mermaid_ and _Little Nemo; Adventures in Slumberland_ with Sam a thousand times. Sam used to love those movies... Dean smirked, and made a mental note to remember to tease Sam about that later. To be fair, they were the only VHS tapes they owned; Dean had picked them up at a yard sale for $1 each so Sammy would have something to do in the endless hours they found themselves in one motel room or another, but still.

He remembered at one point, the mermaid chick was trying to be human, so she could woo the prince, but she kept doing weird shit like brushing her hair with forks. Not exactly the best way to impress a guy. Now that he thought about it, though, that was such a Cas thing. Okay, yeah, the guy probably wasn’t making off with their forks to brush his hair, but it wouldn’t be all that surprising either. For a moment he pictured Cas looking in a mirror trying to tame his hair with a fork, and a small laugh came out in a huff. Maybe that’s why he constantly walked around with crazy sex hair.

It drove Dean crazy, Cas’ hair. Half the time, he wanted to try to smooth it down, tidy it, and make it so he didn’t look so... indecent. The rest of the time he spent trying to resist the urge to run his hands through it, let it slip through his fingers like silk, make it messier. Which was quite frankly the least of the urges he spent his time resisting lately. He let out a little sigh and turned the faucet on to rinse the soapy dishes he had piled haphazardly in the sink.

He spent entirely too much time thinking about that stupid angel. So much so, that Sam had noticed his being distracted. And called him on it. Dean grimaced at the memory of that particularly mortifying discussion. Eventually, after days of Sam’s needling, he had managed to stammer out a confession of sorts, and then proceeded to swear Sam to secrecy. Of course, Sam was all “blah blah blah, talk about your feelings...” and “you’ll never know unless you try,” and even worse (even if it was good to hear), the “I don’t care if you’re into guys yada yada yada.” But he had promised not to say anything to Cas, which Dean was unduly grateful for. Dean relied too much on the strength of the friendship he and Cas had forged to risk it on a chance. Now if only he could keep his mind from wandering to where it inevitably ended up, every time.

Not that it was his fault. He spent a good portion of his time trying to think about anything but that stupid angel. But it was a lost cause; even the most inane thing would set his mind hurtling in the exact direction he was trying to avoid. Everything seemed to remind him of Cas, with his ridiculous trench coat, and his fucking standing too close with his chapped lips, and his staring too long with his big, impossibly blue eyes, and his gravely as fuck voice that always seemed to be just a tad deeper whenever he’d say--

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean started, and the glass he was rinsing slipped from his hand to shatter in the sink. “Jesus, Cas.” Dean threw him an annoyed glance, and turned back to pick the pieces of glass out of the sink, but stopped and turned back towards the angel to look again. Something was... off. Castiel stood only a few feet away, one hand gripping the counter top, as if to steady himself. His eyes closed, and he seemed to be leaning slightly. “Cas? You okay?”

He opened his eyes at Dean’s question, and righted himself. “Yes. I... I’m fine.” His eyebrows furrowed the way they do when he is trying to puzzle something out, and Dean was less than convinced. Before he could tell him so, Castiel asked, “Where is Sam?”

He thought about pushing the issue, but instead answered, “Looking for a hunt.” and turned back to pick the glass out of the sink.

“I have found you one.”

Dean tossed the big pieces into the trash and rinsed the tiny shards down the drain. “Awesome. Let’s go tell Sam the good news.”

* * *

 

Something was definitely wrong.

Dean grunted as he swung his machete and smoothly separated the head from the last vampire’s body, as the body crumpled to the floor, he cast another glance in Cas’ direction. He seemed ok now, if a bit distracted, but there was absolutely no doubt, after the last few days, that there was something going on with the angel. Besides the fact that Cas seemed completely unable to focus throughout the entire hunt, anyway. He was moody, for one thing; he had more than once swayed as if he were about to lose his balance, and at one point legitimately stumbled. Cas did not sway. Cas did not stumble. Not when he was full on angel, anyway, which had Dean more than a little worried about the state of his Grace.

He caught Sammy’s eye, and with a look, knew that Sam had also noticed, and was glad. At least he wasn’t subconsciously making stuff up to have an excuse for the fact that his gaze slid towards Cas entirely too often. They set about the business of collecting and destroying the bodies. It had been a smallish nest, he and Sam probably could have handled it on their own, but when Cas offered to help... Well, it doesn’t hurt to have a little angelic back up, and if it meant he could also keep an eye on him, who was he to argue?

Later, as they finished loading their weapons back into the trunk of the Impala, Dean asked, “So. What the hell is going on with you, Cas?” and Castiel stiffened.

“Yeah, man.” Sam added, “Are you-- is everything alright?”

Dean sent a mental thank you to Sam for the united front, and hoped that Cas would not downplay or avoid whatever it was. He watched as Cas picked absently at the sleeve of his trench coat, as if unwilling to make eye contact for once.

“I’m not sure.” His brow furrowed, confusion and worry playing across his face. “I need-- I will be back.” 

“Cas, wait.” Sam started, but the angel was already gone, and he huffed in annoyance.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean muttered as he slammed the trunk closed.

“At least he said he’d be back...” Sam tried to reassure him, but it came out more like a question. Dean shook his head and yanked open the driver’s side door before sliding into his seat. He pat the dashboard in a silent apology to the car for taking his frustrations out on her as Sam walked around the front of the car. Not his Baby’s fault angels were so aggravating.

The ride home was a long one, and when Dean pulled into the bunker’s garage, Sam was slumped in his seat, dozing. They had tossed ideas back and forth, for the first half of the ride, trying to puzzle out what could be wrong with Cas this time.

“Maybe heaven cut him off again?” Sam had suggested. “I mean, he’s got a habit of pissing off the wrong people up there.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Dean stared at the road ahead of them.“You don’t think--” He set his jaw and forced the words out. “He doesn’t... know. Right?”

Sam laughed, and Dean shot him his best bitchface. “Sorry.” He tried his best to put on a serious face. “No, Dean, he doesn’t know. At least not from me.” He stifled another laugh. “I think if he did know, I would not be so quick to blame heaven for him not being able to walk properly.”

“Ha ha.” Dean’s ears burned red. “Shut it Sam.”


	2. Chapter 2

Cas was not at the bunker when they arrived. It had been a good six hour drive, and even after they had unpacked and eaten and showered, there was no sign of the angel. Sam suggested calling it a night, and Dean didn’t _feel_ like he had a big ‘But, what if..?’ stamped across his face, but he must have, because Sam followed it up with “He’ll be fine, Dean. He’ll come back when he figures it out, and we’ll deal with it. In the meantime, we need sleep.”

“Yeah, whatever. I know.” Dean stomped off towards his room, annoyed. Ever since Sam had wheedled a confession out of him, he treated Dean like such a girl sometimes. Like he might have an emotional break down at any minute just because he had dared to utter the word ‘feelings’ out loud once. Yeah, he was worried, and yeah, it was a total relief to know that Sam was cool about the whole him-liking-Cas thing, but he didn’t need to be _coddled_ for Christ’s sake.

Dean slammed the door to his bedroom, but it did nothing to quell the restlessness he felt. Like he should be doing something. He almost always felt this way after a hunt, but it was compounded now with angel drama. He pulled his shirt up over his head and tossed it in the general direction of the hamper, not even bothering to take note as to whether it fell where it should. He crawled beneath his comforter, lay on his side, closed his eyes, and waited for sleep.

Sleep, however, was not accommodating, and his mind drifted (sprinted) once again to a certain blue eyed seraph. Dean was worried, of course, about whether Cas was having some weird issue with his Grace, but he knew the angel could take care of himself. Sam was right, and if there was a problem, they’d deal with it. They had before. No big deal.

Despite Sam’s assurances of Castiel’s ignorance, and his conviction that Cas might also care about Dean a little more than friendship required, Dean couldn’t help but wonder. The past few days, it had almost felt like Cas was... Well, not _avoiding_ him, per se, but more like Dean was causing... whatever it was. For instance, early in their hunt, Dean had walked past him and their shoulders had brushed, for just the smallest second. It was hardly anything at all, and even with Dean’s usual hyper awareness of the angel’s proximity he barely noted it. Until, that is, Cas had spun around and gave him a shocked look like Dean had just ritualistically sacrificed a kitten. Dean was careful to keep his distance after that, but it didn’t seem to matter, sometimes just eye contact was enough to make Cas’ hands curl into fists and his jaw set.

Not that he couldn’t have been imagining it, he supposed. It was impossible not to read into that kind of stuff when you wanted something you knew you couldn’t have. But it had happened enough that he couldn’t help but think that maybe Cas knew about... everything, and maybe it was making Cas uncomfortable to be around him.

He knew Sam would never go back on his word and tell Cas, even if he did make a point of encouraging Dean to, he rolled his eyes, “be open about his feelings”. That doesn’t mean Cas couldn’t have figured it out for himself. Yeah, he was pretty oblivious half the time, but he and Dean had shared enough intense staring contests followed closely by awkward silences that it was really only a matter of time before he started connecting the dots.

Panic began to well in his chest. This is exactly what he wanted to avoid. He couldn’t lose Cas. He wouldn’t come out of that okay. It would be like losing Sam, or-- as cliche as it sounded-- a part of himself. Worse in some ways. Especially if it ended up being his fault for not being able to control himself. He flopped onto his back and forced a deep breath into his lungs. Ugh. He was overreacting. Cas wouldn’t just stop being his friend. That was stupid. If he knew what went on in Dean’s head all the time, it would be awkward as hell for a while, but they’d adjust. They had been through worse than unrequited- whatever. They’d be okay, right?

*****

Dean must have slipped into sleep sometime after that thought, because the next thing he knew, he was waking up, and it was morning. He threw the blanket off of himself, shrugged into his favorite robe, and padded down the hall barefoot towards the smell of fresh coffee. He heard the heavy metallic clang of the front door, and came around the corner just in time to see Sam coming down the stairs, sweat from his morning run saturating the front of his shirt. “Cas?” Dean asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes, and Sam shook his head.

Dean shrugged and went into the kitchen for coffee and breakfast. He went to the cupboard and pulled down a cream colored mug embossed with the Men of Letters sigil. When he turned, Castiel was standing across from him, looking almost apprehensive. Dean did his best to look more annoyed than surprised, and stalked over to the coffee pot, pouring himself a cup and calling out, “SAM. I FOUND CAS.” He turned, leaned back against the counter and took a drink, and then alternated between studying the cup in his hands and the angel in front of him until Sam appeared in the doorway.

Sam shared a look with his brother, and then they both turned expectantly to the angel. When it became apparent that Castiel would not be forthcoming with an explanation without some sort of prodding, Sam looked at Dean, who shrugged and took another drink of his coffee.

“So, Cas,” Sam ventured, “did you, um, find out what’s up? Is everything okay, with like, your Grace and stuff?”

“Yes.” He answered, and then stiffened and added a little defensively, “My Grace is fine.”

Sam held his hands up in front of his chest as if to show he came in peace. “Okay, hey, it was all we could think of. It seemed like you were having trouble concentrating and with your balance... But you’re okay?”

“I’m-- I’m perfectly healthy.” He hedged.

Dean huffed, “But...?”

“But I do need your help.” Castiel’s glance flicked from one man to the other as they waited for him to continue. He began to feel uncomfortable. This was not something he had ever thought he would have to explain, and the words didn’t seem to want to string together in any way that properly conveyed what was happening. It shouldn’t be so difficult to talk about, they were his friends, after all, and it’s not like what he was experiencing wasn’t perfectly normal. Still, for whatever reason, his tongue felt heavy and uncoordinated in his mouth. He could tell Dean was quickly losing patience.

“Come on, Cas,” Dean pressed, “you know all you gotta do is tell us what you need, and we’ll make it happen.” He regretted the words as soon as the were out of his mouth. Not that he didn’t mean them, but Sam was giving him a look that said, ‘you poor bastard’, and Cas looked even more uncomfortable than before. He tried to amend it with, “I mean, we’re family.” but Sam’s look of pity only intensified. Dean fought the urge to punch it right off his face.

Cas smiled a little. “I know, Dean. It’s an... awkward situation to describe.” Castiel watched the brothers share a look and envied them their way of effectively communicating to each other with just a glance. Not for the first time, he wondered if it was just that they knew each other so well, or if it had been a skill developed out of necessity because of their job.

“Why don’t Dean and I go change,” Sam suggested as he gestured towards his still damp shirt and Deans pajama bottoms, “you can have a second to think, and then we’ll sit and talk about it.”

Castiel nodded in agreement, grateful for the reprieve. Sam left the kitchen after giving him a reassuring smile, but Dean lingered, draining the rest of his coffee and setting his cup in the sink. When Dean turned, Castiel realized they were alone, and he gulped at the sudden dryness in his mouth. He tried not to pay too close attention to how loosely Dean’s robe was tied, open in a deep v shape that ended just past the waistband of his sleep pants. Castiel’s hands tightened into fists as he fought the warmth and tension rising up inside him, and he quickly averted his eyes. 

Dean pushed away from the counter and mumbled, “Uh, yeah. Be right back.” as he headed out of the kitchen. Castiel took a steadying breath and moved into the living area, sitting down in a plush armchair. It didn’t take near as long as he’d have liked before both men are sitting across from him on the couch, waiting for him to continue. Sam cleared his throat, and Castiel took that as his cue to begin. He had decided as he waited that it would be best to be frank, if only to avoid confusion. 

“I seem to be experiencing the early stages of the reproductive cycle inherent to my species.” 

Castiel imagined that if he had had a camera available to him, he would have used it. The dawning of understanding on both of their faces was very amusing, and very suddenly they had matching blushing faces, which for some reason made the moment a little less mortifying. 

Sam was quickly recovering, his curiosity winning out over the shock of what Dean would call “game changing” knowledge. Dean, however, looked repeatedly between Sam and Castiel as if one of them was going to yell, “Just kidding!” His mouth kept opening as if he was about to say something, but then he would close it, furrow his brow and look back at Sam. Castiel waited to say anything more. It would be easier to wait and answer their questions as they came. 

“So, you’re...” Sam struggled for the words, his face turning redder.“you’re like, in heat? Or.. Or rut?”  Dean looked at him incredulously, and Sam gave him a quick half-apologetic shrug in return.

Castiel nodded slowly. “That is a good basis for comparison. Yes.” He paused. “I didn’t realize what was happening, at first. I’ve never been subjected to it before.” 

“Then, how did you?” Dean blurted. “Realize, I mean.” 

“I, uh-- That is...” Castiel cleared his throat. “In heaven, when an angel is in season, they experience an overpowering urge to create new life. To do so, they must find a partner with which to merge their Grace, a complete sharing of mind and self that creates an entirely new self-sufficient being from the excess of the combined Grace--” Sam stopped him. 

“Self-sufficient? So... Angels are born as adults?”

“More or less. There is much that they must learn, and their wings are too weak for flight for a time, but they are born with the knowledge of language, and usually absorb information very quickly.” 

“Hm.” Sam said, processing. 

“Yes. On Earth, however, it’s...” He felt a blush warm his cheeks, “the need is far more, ah, physical.” He prayed that they would not press for more details on that point, and forged on. “I was encountering the impulse much more frequently than previously, so I went to find answers.” 

“In Heaven?” Sam asked. 

“Yes. There is a wealth of knowledge in the Library, though most of it is locked and warded.” 

Dean had thus far been fairly quiet, content to let Sam lead the conversation, but spoke up now, albeit reluctantly. “So why don’t you just... do it?” 

“Heaven is...” Castiel wrestled with his answer, _“I’m_ different. I’m not like other angels any more. When a new angel is created, all of heaven celebrates, but the ones that came together to create it... they feel nothing for each other-- other than perhaps a sense of camaraderie-- and they don’t care any more or less for the fledgling than for any other fellow angel. But I’ve been human. _I feel_. I couldn’t...” He shook his head. “And there is still so much strife in Heaven, still so many unnecessary deaths, if anything happened... I would feel responsible. I would care.” 

Dean stood up abruptly, and walked over to the bar. The angel’s answer had simultaneously filled him with relief and sadness, and for some reason, guilt. He pulled out three tumblers and filled them with the good bourbon. He walked one over to Cas and thrust it at him without looking at him. Castiel took it without a word, and Dean grabbed the other two glasses and sat back down, handing one to Sam, who was nodding. “That’s understandable, Cas.” The three of them fell silent, momentarily at a loss. 

“What are your other options?” Sam asked finally. 

“In the past, there have been examples of angels taking a vessel and mating with a human...” He cleared his throat again and determinedly kept from looking at either hunter in front of him. “It is forbidden of course, and often does not end well for the human involved. Regardless, I have no desire to sire a nephilim either.” 

“Okay. Well, what then?” Dean asked a bit forcefully, but Castiel did not look up from the drink in his hand. “Uh, wait it out?” 

“Yes, Dean. I believe that it my best course of action as of right now.” 

“How long does it last?” Sam asked. 

“I’m not certain.” He breathed out, minutely shaking his head. Dean rolled his eyes and sat back, annoyed, but he didn’t speak. Castiel almost wished he would. Dean’s... aggravation over the whole thing was somewhat perplexing. Perhaps he understood that for the foreseeable future, Castiel would be unavailable to lend a hand on hunts. “The Tomes I found in Heaven said much about how to recognize a mating cycle, and how to complete it,” his tone was defensive, “but there was nothing on how to _avoid_ it. It’s not... allowed. I’m not even sure it’s ever even been attempted.” 

“Awesome.” Dean muttered under his breath, but Sam spoke over him. 

“Not allowed? Cas. You’re gonna disobey heaven? The heaven you _just put back together and got back into good graces with_? Are you absolutely sure that--” 

“I can’t, Sam. I won’t.” 

Sam acquiesced, and Dean ran a hand roughly over his face as he sighed. “Ok, man. What do you need?” He met Cas’ eye, and they both looked quickly away. 

“I was just hoping-- I mean, could I... Stay here? Until it’s over?” 

Sam couldn’t help a small laugh. “Of course you can stay here, right Dean?” He spared a glance at Dean, who’s face was unreadable, but he forged on anyway. “This is your home too, why else would we give you a bedroom?” 

“I just... I wanted to be sure.” He began to look flustered. “I don’t know how bad it-- I might become--” He took a deep breath. “The book noted that the instinct to mate can be quite, um, compelling. I don’t want to hurt anyone.” 

“We know you don’t.” Sam soothed. “You won’t.” 

“I appreciate your trust in me, I’m sure I will be able to control myself, but I will prefer to stay in my room, just in case. It would also be best for everyone if you both give me a wide berth until... after.” 

“Noted.” Sam said seriously, and he and Dean shared another communicative look. “You go get settled, let us know if you need anything, and in the meantime, we’ll see if we can dig up any lore. Or maybe a spell?” 

“Yes.” He gave them both a grateful look. “Thank you.”


	3. Chapter 3

A week passed excruciatingly slowly in the bunker. Sam and Dean spent their days pouring over everything the Men of Letters ever wrote about angels or nephilim. The amount of lore they uncovered was staggering, but none of it helpful in their current situation. All of it consistently agreed that breeding an angel and a human created nephilim, but it didn’t seem as though the Men of Letters were privy to any knowledge of how or why angels reproduced, or that they experienced mating cycles at all.

Castiel had remained in his room the entire week, and apart from knocking gently the first day to make sure he was settled, both hunters had respected his boundaries. Sam would suggest now and then that they go check on him, but Dean would shake his head and pick up another Men of Letters file.

Dean did not need to check on him. He knew that Cas was not in any better shape than before. In fact, Dean would be willing to bet that the angel was much worse. It hadn’t occurred to him, when he and his brother had gifted Cas with his own bedroom, that their rooms sharing a wall would ever matter. It mattered.

It’s not like he was _trying_ to listen to what was going on over there... At first. He hadn’t even thought about it, not really, but then, just as he was drifting off to sleep, he heard a muffled groan from the room next door.

His dick gave a twitch, recognizing the noise before his brain did.

Cas was in the middle of some weird angel-heat thing, which, he assumed, probably felt something like the worst case of blue balls, ever. It stood to reason, then, that Cas would try to relieve some of that, um, instinct. Of course, once Dean’s brain caught up, his imagination went into overdrive. He couldn’t not picture Cas in various states of undress, hair a mess and eyes dark with lust; couldn’t stop the visual of Cas flushed and touching himself, trying so hard to sate the urge to mate. Dean had berated himself and tried to violently squash those thoughts whenever they skittered across his mind. Every night, he’d cover his head with a pillow or put on his headphones, and valiantly did his best to ignore any noise that made it’s way through the wall. He’d fall into a fitful sleep, and have strange dreams where he was simultaneously looking for Cas and running from him.

It didn’t take long, however, before he realized one night that he was straining to hear something from Cas’ room. He didn’t even pretend to try to stop. At first, he couldn’t even be sure that he wasn’t imagining the soft sighs or the quick pants. Then a stuttered moan hit him like a punch in the gut, and he’d snapped his eyes shut at the force of it on his body. He laid on his bed, half hard and jaw clenching, both dreading and hoping for another.

Another is what he got, and he bit his bottom lip as he slid his hand beneath the waist band of his sleep pants. He wrapped his hand around his swelling cock and held his breath, trying desperately to hear what the angel was doing now. He pumped himself almost lazily as he allowed his imagination to wander. He thought about walking into the next room. Just throwing open the door and Cas would turn to him, naked and red faced. Or maybe he wouldn’t know to be embarrassed, and he would just look at Dean imploringly, willing him to make it all go away. Dean wouldn’t even say anything. He would just walk up to Cas, fall to his knees and start sucking his cock.

Dean paused just long enough to shove and shimmy his waistband down a few inches, until his dick sprang free and he could better utilize his wrist’s full range of motion. Cas grunted in the next room, and Dean began to work himself faster. He tried to imagine Cas’ face, looking down at him, awed and bewildered as Dean took him into his mouth. Pictured him throwing his head back, and then running his hands through Dean’s hair, pulling him closer, pushing deeper into his mouth. Dean would take it. He would take all of it.

Dean bit back a moan, mindful of the thin walls (even if Cas was not). He was leaking now; shiny rivulets of pre-come slicking his hand which was gliding easier with every swipe across the tip. He heard Cas groan again, and it set him ridiculously close to the edge. It didn’t seem to matter that there was a wall between them, just knowing that Cas was turned on enough to make those noises... _Jesus_. He could feel his orgasm building quickly, and slid his free hand up his chest to play with his nipple. He thought of Cas mouthing at it, and rolling it between his teeth. The image made him suck in a gasp, and his grip on his dick tightened.

He listened for Cas, wanting to hear more before he came, but there was nothing. He pictured Cas on top of him instead, tried to imagine what it would feel like to have Cas’ cock pressed tightly against his own. His hips began to move, thrusting himself into his hand. _Ah, God. So close_. He thought about Cas coming, writhing and spurting all over his--

His door opened. “Dean. I need to talk--” Cas was suddenly standing in his doorway, and Dean attempted to do several things at once (like stop jerking off, and sit up, and cover up, and say something), but he couldn’t do or say anything, because he was too busy gasping in surprise and _jizzing all over himself_.

As soon as his dick was done being a complete _asshole_ , and he could function, he covered himself with his comforter and pushed himself halfway into a siting position, stealing a glance at Castiel who, yeah, judging buy the look on his face, just got a front row ticket to the money shot. The angel stood gaping, still holding onto the doorknob with white knuckles.

They stared at each other for a long time. At least, it felt like a long time. He could feel the come on his stomach quickly cooling, and tried to surreptitiously wipe it away with the blanket. Cas took a few steps into the room, a tense look on his face, but he did not let go of the door and shuffled back again. Dean attempted to say something, but all he could get out was “Uh...” What exactly could he say in this situation?! ‘Gee best friend, sorry you caught me beating it while eavesdropping on you beating it. Apparently, I’m some sort of pervert. Hope that’s not going to be a problem?’

He was snapped out of his train of thought when Cas suddenly backed completely out of the room, closing the door as he left, and a few seconds later Dean heard him slam his own bedroom door. First time the guy leaves his room in a week, and what happens? Dean flopped back onto his pillows with a groan and buried his face in his hands, humiliation (and guilt) setting in full force.

****

Dean knew he couldn’t hide forever. He knew he needed to go next door and make sure Cas was okay (and not scarred for life). He had cleaned up and gotten dressed, and was now sitting on his bed trying to muster his courage. He had contemplated a shower, but knew that was a cop out. Besides, Cas hadn’t come over for a social visit, he had _needed_ something.

The thought was enough to push Dean up off his bed and into the hall. Where he stood awkwardly outside of Cas’ room, hand raised to knock, but not actually knocking. He was being ridiculous. A man had needs God damn it. It wasn’t his fault Cas hadn’t knocked. Wait, had he knocked? Dean didn’t even know, he’d been a bit freaking distracted. It wasn’t his fault the sounds Cas made were so... Ugh. Whatever.

He rapped his knuckles lightly against the door. There was no answer. He cleared his throat. “Cas?” Nothing. He debated the pros and cons of opening the door. Considering what just happened, he opted to knock again. “Cas, you in there?” He held his breath.

“Um, Yes.”

Okay. Yeah. That was good. Now what? Was that an okay to come in? He put a hand on the knob, but hesitated. What is it Sam says all the god damn time? ‘Communication is key?’ He’d better clarify. “Uh, Can I, uh, come in?”

“I-- I don’t think--” He groaned. “NO! No. Don’t come in.”

He sounded breathless and his voice was a little raw. Dean closed his eyes and sent some very stern warnings to his dick, before it could get any ideas, and released the door knob. “Okay.” He wondered if he should just go back to his room, but he didn’t. “So, um, earlier. When you-- You said-- Did you--” Christ. His eloquence was unparalleled. “What did you, ah, need?” There was silence for several moments, but Dean waited.

Finally, Cas spoke. “I believe I may need to be-- It would be best, if I were... restrained.”

Dean was having a moment. A ‘Jesus Christ that’s hot- no wait stop- he’s your friend and he needs help- stop picturing him tied to your bedpost you fucking perv- say something supportive’ moment. “Dean?” Cas called, suddenly just on the other side of the door.

“Uh, yeah. I’m here.” Dean paused, stepping close to the door, and lowering his voice. “You really think that’s necessary?”

“Yes. Sometimes I feel like I am--” He sounded broken, defeated. “I’m losing control.”

Suddenly, the only desire Dean had was to comfort him. He settled for a palm gingerly pressed against the door. Was it so much to ask to be able to tell him everything was going to be okay, and know it was true? He swallowed, hard. “Can you hold out while Sam and I get some stuff together?”

There was a soft _thunk_ as Cas’ forehead landed against the door. “Yes. I think so.”


	4. Chapter 4

A little over two hours later, Dean triple checked the sigils freshly painted onto the dungeon’s walls, while Sam finished carving the last ones into the leather bands on the arms of the chair in the center of the room. Sam set his tools aside and inspected his work. “I think that’s about as good as it’s going to get.” He frowned. “Dean, are you sure--”

“Can it, Sam.”

“I’m just saying,” Sam said carefully, “what if he doesn’t--”

“What else can we do?” Dean demanded.

Sam huffed. “If you would just tell him that--”

“Damn it, Sam. No.”

“Would you stop interrupting me? And why not? It would solve everything!”

Dean whirled around to stare incredulously at his brother. “I’m not going to... to... take advantage of him!”

“Oh my God, Dean,” He tried to hide a smile, his frustration falling away, “really?” It was just such a strange thing to hear him say. Sweet, but strange. Dean was usually all for taking any advantage, and it just reinforced the idea of how important this thing with Cas was.

“What? It’s not funny. He can’t think straight. I wouldn’t trust him to chose a breakfast cereal right now, and you want me to have a girly-time soap opera moment with him?!”

“So, if he wasn’t... having this issue, you’d talk to him about it?”

“What? No!” Dean gave him a look like he was crazy. “But I sure as hell am not saying anything to him now.” Sam sighed in frustration and rolled his eyes, and Dean glared at him. “Don’t. I’m done. Conversation over.” He strode out the door to tell Cas they were ready for him.

When he found himself outside Cas’ door once again, he didn’t let himself stop to think about it, he just knocked. “Cas? We’re ready if you are.”

“Alright.” He replied after a pause, “I just need a few moments.”

Castiel was sitting with his back against the door, one knee drawn up towards his chest. He had been sitting that way since Dean had walked away from his door earlier, spending the entire time trying to get back some control. He felt stable enough now, he supposed, but didn’t trust himself. He had nearly... Oh, God, when he had opened that door, and Dean... No. He could _not_ think about that right now. Right now he had to manage to walk from his room to the dungeon without assaulting anybody. He could do that. Just, down the hall, couple flights of stairs, another hall, room with dungeon. Okay.

He took a deep breath and stood up. “I’m going to come out now.” He opened the door and kept his eyes on the floor. He could not look at Dean right now. He had to get downstairs. Already he could feel his restraint slipping, little suggestions in the back of his mind that he was trying very hard to drown out. He exited his room completely, and closed the door behind him. He could see Dean’s boots in his periphery, but they hadn’t moved, and Castiel could not bear to be any closer than he already was, so he stayed where he was too.

“Cas?”

It took every shred of will power not to look up at him. “We should hurry.”

Dean didn’t say anything, but he did turn and start down towards the stairs. Castiel followed at what he considered a safe distance. Going down the stairs proved to be difficult, Dean was in front of him, so Castiel couldn’t avoid looking at him by looking down. Really, unless he wanted to look straight up, or attempt to walk down the stairs backwards, there was no other place to look. He couldn’t help but notice the smattering of freckles on the back of the hunter’s neck, and this particular angle gave Castiel a splendid view of his shoulders, and when Dean turned on the landing, the angel noted the shallowest little dip, right between Dean’s throat and collar bone. He wanted to kiss him there. He wanted to lick it. He wanted to scrape his teeth against it and mark him, mark him, mark him. His grace burned inside him all at once, screaming at him to take his mate. His vision swam.

A noise came out of Castiel that he didn’t recognize, something that started as a feral growl but tapered into a whimper. He was trying, with everything he had, to hold on to who he was. Dean had turned toward him at the sound, looking more worried than wary, and took a step towards him. Castiel tried to back away, and ground out an uneasy “N-No.” His foot missed the step behind him, and he unceremoniously slipped onto his backside. His chest was heaving with each quick, desperate gasp for breath as he wrestled with himself.

Dean watched him for a few seconds, fighting his own internal battles. “Should I-- Tell me how to help, man.”

Castiel squeezed his eyes shut. How could Dean not realize that those words were the opposite of help? It was almost as if Dean wanted him to lose control. Maybe... No. He did not even allow himself to think it. He would not allow himself to go so low as to use someone that way, but especially not Dean. Never Dean. He knew, if the worst happened, if he... If he lost control, that Dean, in his infinite selflessness, would likely somehow manage to bestow forgiveness (again), but Castiel would _never_ forgive himself.

No. He would fight this body. He would fight his Grace. He would destroy himself a thousand thousand times before he allowed anything like that to happen, because Dean deserved more than that from him.

Cas pushed up off the stairs, nodded to himself, and gestured for Dean to keep moving. They made it to the cell without further incident, and Sam was there waiting for them. None of them said anything. As soon as he entered the room, Castiel felt the warding on the walls softly suppressing his contact with his Grace. It reminded him very much of that first time he took a drink when he had been human; he hadn’t truly realized how thirsty he was until the water had touched his lips, and then even as he emptied the bottle and the relief washed through his body, it hadn’t been enough. This was the same. The runes took the edge off; they wet his lips, soothed the scratch in his throat, but did nothing to quench his thirst. Castiel glanced around the room, checking symbols and resigning himself to the coming days (weeks?) of torment. He sat in the chair and dared a glance at the brothers. Neither of them moved to bind him.

“Cas,” Sam ventured, “are you sure that this is really--”

“It needs to be done, Sam.” Castiel said gently.

“It just feels... wrong, sticking you in here.”

Castiel stilled. “If it makes you uncomfortable, I could...” He tried to think of what else he could do.

“What? No! You will always be welcome Cas, no matter what the circumstances. If this is what we’ve got to do, it’s what we got to do, it’s just...” he struggled to explain, “you’re one of the good guys. This room is usually for the bad guys. It seems cruel.”

Castiel nodded in understanding, “I assure you, this is necessary.” He looked pointedly at the leather bands on the arms of the chair before looking back up at them. Sam looked like he would rather stab himself with a rusty fork than have to tie him up. Dean must have picked up on Sam’s aversion to the idea, because even though he didn’t look any happier about it, he approached Castiel and took to fastening the first strap.

Castiel stared straight ahead and gripped the arms of the chair. He could tell that Dean was trying to be careful not to touch him, but it was inevitable. Each time Dean tightened a buckle at Castiel’s wrists, his knuckles brushed the back of the angel’s hand. Dean stepped back after Castiel’s hands were bound.

“Is that good, or should we go the whole nine yards?” He asked, gesturing to the additional straps.

Castiel pulled halfheartedly at the restraints, then looked up. “Better to be safe, than to be sorry.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but kneeled in front of him to fasten the straps at his ankles. After quickly belting the first one, Dean turned to do the other, but had to move Cas’ foot closer to the leg of the chair to do so. He did it without even thinking about it, put a hand on his calf and pushed it closer, but looked up when he heard a hiss. Cas was looking at him in a way-more-intense-than-normal way, and it occurred to Dean that he was looking up at his best friend from between his legs. Legs that he had just effectively pulled apart. Pulled apart so he could _tie him up_. Oh God, stop thinking. He unconsciously wet his lips, and Castiel’s eyes snapped shut and his grip on the chair tightened, his knuckles white. Dean could feel his ears burning in embarrassment from his thoughts, and savagely reminded himself that Sam was in the room. He ducked his head much lower than necessary, and set to work on the second strap, but his fingers would not cooperate, and it took him twice as long as the first had.

When he finally got it properly tightened, he stood, and contemplated the last strap for a few seconds. It dangled from the back of the chair, waiting to be secured around Cas’ chest. This was more than likely going to be awkward. He steeled himself, and then leaned over Castiel, putting a hand on either side of the angel’s body, between his arm and ribs, groping for the strap on one side, and the buckle on the other. It put their faces inches apart, and he could feel Cas’ breath on his cheek. A deep sound rumbled from Castiel’s chest, but Dean could not interpret it. He pulled the leather strap around Cas’ torso, and fed it through the buckle, cinching it tight. As he leaned to feed the strap back through the buckle to pull it out of the way, he felt Cas’ nose brush lightly along his jawline, and heard him inhale deeply.

Dean sprang back, startled, looking at Cas strangely, who still hadn’t exhaled. His eyes were held shut and he looked as if he were savoring the smell. When he finally opened his eyes and let his breath go, he looked up at Dean with pupils blown wide and an expression on his face that had Dean taking a couple steps back. “Well, ah, you- you’re good. I mean, I’m done. With that. The belts.” He half-backed into the door frame. “I’m gonna, uh, research. Yeah.” He darted around the corner quickly to escape Cas’ stare, and heard Sam saying something about checking in on him later.

Sam fell in step beside him, and Dean resolutely stared straight ahead, trying to figure what the exact odds were that Sam had been oblivious to all... That.

“So,” Sam said, and Dean’s hopes for getting out of this without another awkward moment were dashed, “that was... interesting. And by interesting, I mean the absolute worst thing I have ever had to witness in my entire life! I thought it was bad before! With the staring and the awful attempts at flirting and--”

“Whatever.” Dean interrupted.

“No, man, I mean it. You were practically doing it!” Sam sounded almost smug.

“We were not.” But his mind flashed back to that look on Cas’ face. “And it’s not like you had to watch. Perv.”

“I am not a perv. It was like a train wreck.” Sam pulled an exaggerated lovey face and made kissing noises.

Dean actually laughed, Sam’s mood catching. “Aw, Sammy, you’re just jealous you don’t have an angel making kissy faces at you.”

Sam made a face. “I am not.”


	5. Chapter 5

It had been 10 days since they had relocated Castiel to the warded room. Not that Dean was counting. He had managed to avoid the room for a full thirty six hours before he broke down and went to check on the angel, who (through gritted teeth) thanked him for his concern and then sent him away. After that, even though he could tell Cas would prefer if he stayed away, Dean made a point of checking on him once a day. Sometimes twice, if Cas wasn't lucid on the first try, and yesterday he’d had to come back a third time before Cas was able to huff out his usual “I’m fine, Dean.”

There was absolutely no doubt in Dean’s mind that Cas was not fine. He was only getting worse, and quickly. Both Dean and Sam had poured themselves into the research, frantically looking for anything that could at least ballpark a time frame for them, but nothing they found was helpful or reassuring. For example, some animals could be in heat for _months_ , and Cas was an _angel_ , with an indefinite lifespan, so who knows how long this could go on? It had been, what, three weeks already? Four? Dean didn’t think Cas could last much longer, and God knows Dean couldn’t take much more of watching Cas lose himself like this.

Dean approached the room with caution, steeling himself for whatever would meet him on the other side. He pulled open the door, and carefully entered the room. Castiel was still bound to the chair in the center of the room, and did not immediately respond to Dean’s presence. His head hung against his chest, which rapidly rose and fell as he panted heavily. Sweat had plastered his hair to his head and ran in rivulets down his forehead.

Dean cleared his throat, not sure if he could muster up anything to say, and Castiel’s head rose slowly in response. When his eyes focused on Dean, he smiled and said, “Dean. You came.” The relief in his voice tore at Dean, but Castiel continued before he could come up with a response. “It’s hot.” He whined, and seemed to notice his restraints as if for the first time. “What-- what did I do? Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry. I don’t want to hurt you, Dean.”

“No, Cas. You didn’t hurt anybody.” It came out as barely more than a whisper, and Dean wasn't even sure if Cas heard him.

“It’s so hot. Please, Dean. My Grace-- I can’t-- Why is it so _hot_?” The last word came out in a sob. Dean closed his eyes and ground his teeth, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. He turned and left the room without another word, trying to ignore the endless stream of pleas behind him. He didn’t get far before turning and going right back, making a quick stop in the washroom to splash water on his face. He looked around until he found a small tub (unceremoniously dumping the assorted toiletries it contained onto the floor) and filled it with cool water. He threw a rag into it and then carried it carefully back to the cell and set it on a table that had been pushed out of the way.

Castiel’s head hung to his chest once again, and he was muttering something, but Dean couldn’t quite make it out. He drug the table closer to the chair, and Cas started and the noise. As soon as he realized he was not alone, he began to beg. “I’m so hot. It’s too hot. Please. I can’t--”

“I know. I know, Cas.” He scooped the rag out of the basin and squeezed it before gently washing the sweat off the angel’s face. Castiel shuddered in relief as soon as the cloth touched his skin. “Shh. I know, man. I got you.” He dipped the rag back into the tub and wiped down Castiel’s neck and throat, letting the water drip down under the collar of his white dress shirt. Dean held the cool material lightly against his pulse points before dipping the rag again and wringing it out. “Lay your head back.” He murmured, and laid the cloth across his brow.

Dean stepped back and wiped his wet hands on his jeans, resolutely ignoring the obvious tent in Castiel’s slacks and wondering if he should just leave now that his friend seemed a bit better. Instead he found himself kneeling down and untying the angel’s shoes before pulling them off and setting them neatly under the table. When he looked up, Cas was staring at him, the rag on his forehead lopsided and slowly falling out of place. Dean stood up, took the cloth and put it back in the basin. “I just... figured it would be more comfortable.” He nodded towards the shoes.

“Thank you.”

They stared. Dean thought again about leaving, but just couldn’t bring himself to. “Cas, are you-- Are you with me?”

“Yes.” He said hesitantly, a bit confused.

“Okay. I just-- Half the time I come down here you’re... not.”

“I’m not?”

“No, man. Most of the time you’re delirious, or asleep, which is almost as bad, ‘cause I don’t know whether I should try to wake you up, or let you be. Twice I came down and you were babbling in Enochian, and it was like you didn’t even know I was here.” Dean tried to keep his voice even, but didn’t know how well he had succeeded.

“I’m... sorry you had to see that.” Castiel looked away, ashamed.

Dean didn’t say anything right away. He spent a good moment internally struggling with himself, tempted (and not for the first time) to just... volunteer his services. He couldn’t though, because he knew the offer would not be completely selfless. He wanted it too badly to trust himself. But then... what if angels didn’t just stop being in heat? What if it just got worse and worse and worse until they broke? He couldn’t bear it. Even if Cas hated him afterwards, left for heaven and never came back (he ignored the stab in his chest at that thought), at least he’d be alive. At least he’d be _Cas_. With that, his mind was made up, and he took tentative steps towards the chair until their knees were brushing.

“You’re not getting any better, Cas.” Castiel looked up at him, startled by the change in his voice, but Dean forged ahead, settling a hand on Cas’ forearm. “I-- I don’t want you to suffer anymore.” He situated his body so that Castiel’s knees were between his own, and ran his hand up the length of the angel’s arm until it cupped his face.

Castiel was panting again, and wet his lips. “Dean, I--” He shook his head, and swallowed, “I think I am hallucinating.”

Dean huffed a nervous laugh, and leaned forward to carefully lay a kiss on his jaw. “I don’t think so.”

Castiel closed his eyes and tried to think clearly, but Dean was not making that easy, leaving timid kisses in the crook of his neck. “Dean, I don’t think-- _Ah, yes_.” his hips snapped upwards of their own accord. He could feel Deans hands shaking against his chest as the man fumbled to unbutton his shirt. “You don’t... have t-to... I don’t want--”

“It’s okay.” Dean soothed, and then leaned forward with more kisses for his jaw and neck, hiding his face so Cas would not see him lie, “It doesn’t... have to mean anything.” _To you_. He added mentally.

It took a minute, for the words to settle in Castiel’s brain through the haze of _oh yes. Please don’t stop. Finally. Thank you God_. When they did, however, he couldn’t get them off repeat, and the ache in his chest was tenfold worse than the ache in his groin. It doesn’t have to mean anything? How could it mean nothing? It should mean _everything_. “Dean. Stop.”

“I can help, Cas. Let me help, please.”

Suddenly, it made sense, and Castiel swallowed the urge to cry. Of course. Dean and his damned hero complex. Castiel would never doubt that Dean _cared_ , for all that Dean tried to act as if he had no feelings at all, he knew that Dean cared for others more than any other human he had met, but that didn’t mean he wanted this, that he wanted _Castiel_ , he only wanted to _rescue_ him, felt some familial responsibility to protect him. The lengths that he was willing to go, the amount of himself he was willing to sacrifice was staggering. “Dean--”

“Oh, Cas.” Dean breathed into his neck.

“Stop.” Castiel tensed as Dean ran both hands down his torso. “Damn it, Dean. _Stop touching me_.”

Dean jerked away as if Castiel had slapped him. “W-what?”

“I don’t want _assistance_ , Dean. Not from you.” _All I want from you is everything, and that is too much to ask_. Part of Castiel wanted to apologize, and beg him to continue, he didn’t have any right to expect more from Dean. He ought to be thanking his lucky stars that Dean had offered. He ought to be quiet and enjoy the only opportunity he was like to get. He ought to be committing each and every touch to memory. But he couldn’t bring himself to be that selfish. He didn’t want Dean to help him, he wanted Dean to love him, and that was not what was being offered.

“But--” A flurry of emotions played across Dean’s face as he slowly pulled away. “Um. Okay.” He cleared his throat and stood up, backing up towards the door. “I’m sorry.” He turned and left as quickly as he could without looking like he was fleeing. Which is exactly what he was doing.


	6. Chapter 6

Sam paced. It was how he spent his time while Dean was checking on Castiel, which somehow had become Dean’s job (and Sam was okay with that). Dean would give him a heads up, and Sam would look at his watch, and if more than ten minutes went by, he would invariably find himself in his room, pacing back and forth, listening for the door to the stairwell. This was the longest Dean had taken. Few more days of this, and the carpet in his room would be threadbare.

Not that Dean couldn’t take care of himself... and not that Sam thought Cas would ever intentionally hurt Dean ever, but he had asked to be restrained, which meant he was losing control. So Sam paced, and wondered, how long was too long? And then considered the pros and cons of checking on his brother, who was checking on the hormone crazed angel. If Sam did go downstairs, he would walk in on one of three likely scenarios.

One, they were fine, and Dean was taking his sweet ass time coming back upstairs, and Dean would tease him for worrying. He could live with that.

Two, Dean had finally decided to stow his crap and get on with it, which Sam would be extremely happy about, but was decidedly not keen to walk in on. Dean would hang a sock on the door or something, right?

Or three, Cas had somehow escaped and was doing God knows what to Dean, against his will (maybe?). Which, was really something he didn’t want to see, but if Dean needed his help...

He heaved a sigh of relief when the stairwell door wheezed open, interrupting that particularly disturbing train of thought. He listened as Dean shuffled down the hall, and wondered what was up. Usually, frustrated by Castiel’s lack of progress, Dean would be stomping and throwing things by now. Sam gave him a few minutes head start, in case he needed some time to... think or whatever, and then headed into the kitchen to grab some beers out of the fridge.

After some careful poking around, Sam finds Dean in the library. At first glance, it looks like Dean has settled in for a long day of research, but something makes Sam stop in his tracks just before entering the room. Dean is sitting at one of the tables, with a large box of files pushed to one side, a bottle of whiskey on the other, and a file laid open in front of him. It takes Sam a minute to realize that Dean isn’t reading the file. He isn’t even looking at it, not really, he’s looking past it. Just staring and staring, the muscle in his jaw ticking away.

Sam wavered between wanting to ask him what happened, and letting him be. Dean isn’t exactly receptive to any sort of discussion when he is upset. Or ever, really. It’s best to tread lightly whenever Dean is in a mood. His curiosity and worry outweigh his sense of self preservation, though, and he walks through the door. He doesn’t wait for Dean to acknowledge him, he just sets the two beers on the table and sits, pulling the next folder from the box. He waits a beat and then ventures, “So, Cas okay?”

Dean pours himself a shot and tosses it back before he answers spitefully. “Uh, Yeah. Apparently, he’s fine. No assistance required.”

Sam can tell he’s definitely missed something. “That’s good, I guess.” He paused, “A-are you okay?”

Dean didn’t reply, except to shove his chair away from the table and walk out the door, snatching the bottle of whiskey on his way. Sam leaned back in his chair and sighed in exasperation. Yup. Alright. Enough is enough. Time to call in the big guns.

*******

After Sam had taken care of the mess in the library, and put the beers back into the fridge with a sigh, he leaned against the counter and tried not to feel guilty for not telling Dean about what he was about to do. He had been meaning to suggest it for the last few days, but knew Dean would probably flip his shit and tell him to take his idea and shove it, so he had put it off. Now, though... Well too bad for Dean if he didn’t like it, they were out of options, and Sam could absolutely not stand anymore of the angsty shit going around here.

He looked up towards the ceiling, weirdly nervous all of a sudden. _Gabriel? You, uh, listening? It’s Sam. Winchester. Um. I know you’re busy, with Heaven and everything..._ He winced. Did he have to sound so awkward even in his own head? _But we’ve got a bit a problem, and we could really use your--_

He was interrupted by a pounding on the door. He had not really expected to get a response at all, let alone so quickly. He sprang off the counter and hurried to the door, preferably before Dean came to see what the commotion was. Sam opened the door, and sure enough, there stood the Archangel Gabriel, arms flung out and smiling as if presenting himself to an adoring public.

“Wow.” Sam said dryly. “That was fast. I thought you’d be busy, ruling angels and fixing Heaven and everything.”

The trickster shrugged. “Ask, and ye shall receive. That, and, Heaven’s _boring_. What’s shakin’ Sammich?” He strolled through the door, and then froze as the realization hit him. His smile slipped into a look of confusion, which quickly melted into exasperated disbelief. “You three have got to be the _stupidest_ sonsabitches I have ever met.”

“Gabriel--”

“No, really. I mean it. It’s actually quite impressive. Every time I think to myself, they can’t _possibly_ get any dumber than _this_ , you guys go and _raise the bar_!” He did his best to ignore Sam’s current bitchface as they glared at one another. “Take me to him.”

Sam huffed in annoyance as he closed the door. Obviously, he was not going to be getting any easy answers from Gabriel, but what had he expected? They never get easy _anything_ from Gabriel. “Alright,” he said with a resigned sigh, “follow me.” He led Gabriel down the stairs, and towards the hall that led to the stairwell, but stopped and turned suddenly. “Uh, it would probably be best if Dean didn’t...” He watched Gabriel roll his eyes. “It’s just, he never really got over you killing him a thousand times or so, and I really don’t want a scene right now.”

“I wiped his memory every time! He doesn’t even remember any of the dying, how can he still be mad about it?”

“He’s not mad because of how many times you killed him.” Sam said, as if it should be obvious, and then he shrugged. “He’s mad because of how much it hurt me.”

Gabriel stopped at that, surprised at how easily the admission slipped from Sam, and all at once he felt guilty. “I- I’m sorry Sam. I _was_ trying to help.”

Sam shrugged again. “I know, but you can see why Dean would be, uh, hesitant to ask for your... help.”

“Yeah, okay.” He waved his hand casually. “There.”

Sam glowered down at him. “What did you do?!”

“I just...” he hesitated, “removed the door to his room?”

“Gabe!”

“What? I’ll put it back before I leave. You said you didn’t want a scene.”

Sam stared at him, shaking his head in annoyed disbelief. “Whatever. Just, ugh, come on.” He started down the hallway, tried not to stare at the blank wall where Dean’s door had been, and then tried to pretend he was imagining the muffled yells from the other side.

Gabriel noticed Sam’s discomfort. “If you want, I can--”

“No!” Sam blurted, and then, “No. Let’s just, go.”

When they made it to the warded room, Sam quickly noted that the table had been moved, and the pair of shoes neatly tucked under it, and... Castiel’s unbuttoned dress shirt. He immediately put “What Happened Today” on the list of things he did not want a mental image of. His phone buzzed repeatedly in his pocket, and he groaned, knowing it was likely Dean pitching a fit. He pulled it out of his pocket, and looked at the screen guiltily.

_Sam did you do this?_

_My door is fucking missing._

_Not fucking funny._

_Seriously._

_I am not in the mood._

_Sam._

_Where are you?_

_Tell me you have a door._

_Answer me Goddamn it._

_Sam._

_Are you ok?_

Sam typed a quick response, _I’m fine. Not really my fault. Give me a minute_ , and pocketed his phone, which started vibrating again almost immediately. He looked up at Gabriel, who was edging towards Castiel, “You got this?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He said distractedly.

Sam gave him a calculated look. “You’re not going to fly off before we can talk to you, are you?” But Gabriel didn’t say anything, he was trying to make out what Cas was muttering under his breath. Sam turned to leave. “I’ll be upstairs... I guess.”

Gabriel was watching Castiel with pity. His brother had gone so many millenia without needing to mate, that Gabriel had assumed that he was one of the lucky ones who never came into season. “Cassie...” He said with a sigh. “Why do we always insist on doing things the hard way?” Gabriel put his hand on his brother’s brow and did what he could to soothe the raw, ragged edges of Castiel’s Grace. He could not heal as much as he wanted, Castiel’s Grace fought the healing contact, interested in a different kind of touch. He pulled away, and thankfully, it was enough to bring Castiel back to himself.

“Gabriel?” He asked, confused.

“Hey bro.” He gestured to the restraints. “You seem to be in a bit of a pickle here.” He made to wave them away, but Castiel clenched the arms of the chair in panic.

“Don’t!”

Gabe pouted. “Cas, this isn’t going to go away. Your Grace will use itself all up in it’s attempts to get you to mate.” When the only response he got was Castiel stubbornly squaring his shoulders and sulking, he continued. “You think you’re the first one that’s tried? The first one that didn’t want to hand Heaven a shiny new soldier? And boy, do I wish I’d had an awesome big brother to come talk sense into me.” Castiel looked up at him, searching his face. “Yeah. Don’t look so surprised.”

“You’re still alive.” Castiel quipped.

“Yeah, with three bouncing bundles of trouble to show for it. Not that I didn’t try to get out of it every time.”

“You have children?” Castiel asked in awe. Gabriel shook his head and looked away.

“Had. They’re dead now.”

“I’m sorry.” Castiel whispered.

Gabriel sucked in a breath. “Ah, well. It’s not like we were close, you know how it is.”

“Then you have to understand why I can’t--”

“No, I get it.” He interrupted. “I get why you don't want to do this in _Heaven_. What I _don’t_ get, is why you and Dean haven’t done the horizontal mambo yet. Is this some sort of delayed gratification kink, or what?”

“No.” Castiel huffed. “Dean...” He fidgeted, and then mumbled, “H-he offered.”

“Wait. What?!” Gabriel threw his hands out, as if beckoning understanding. “Then-- But-- Why--” His brow furrowed as he tried to think it through. “I don’t understand. It’s all you’ve wanted. This doesn’t make any sense.”

“Gabriel, that’s not--”

“Save it. The entire Heavenly Host knows how head over heels you are, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that the whole human population knew as well. With the exception of Deano, of course, who would probably need a chorus line, with “Castiel loves you, you idiot” printed on the bottom of their shoes, kicking him in the face before he realized it. Which is fitting, since it seems you are just as thick.”

“I wasn’t going to deny my feelings for Dean, but _this_ is not what I want.” He struggled to explain. “I- I am content, and honored, to have Dean consider me a friend, but there is little he would not do for a friend in need, and I do not care to be... an obligation. If there is ever a time that he wishes me to be more... There is nothing, on any plane of existence, that I would not do for him, but I won’t _ask_ it of him.”

Gabriel positively flailed in exasperation. “Are you _serious_?!” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am making Sam a Saint. How he deals with you two fools everyday, I’ll never know. Really? You honestly can’t see how disgustingly in love with you he is?! I mean, I’ll give you the first couple years, I don’t think even he knew he had it bad... But come on!” Castiel was looking at him like he was no longer speaking a language that could be understood.

“Dean doesn’t-- I’m sure he _cares_ for me...” Though, even with Gabriel screaming the truth at him, he sounded unsure.

“He loves you. He’s in love with you. He is hot for your body. He--”

“My vessel is male.”

Gabriel leveled him with a stare. “You going to tell me you never saw your boy toy throw a guy an appreciative glance?” Castiel looked away, but didn’t deny it. “That’s what I thought. Now, why don’t I send him down here, and you guys can... talk,” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“No.” Castiel hurried to continue, before Gabriel could do anything more than roll his eyes. “Even if Dean did l-love me,” Castiel tried to squash the tiny hope that was blooming in his chest, “I wouldn’t want-- I can’t control myself. Especially around him. What if I-- I don’t want that to be our first...” He felt himself blush. “I don’t want that to be his first... impression.”

Gabe fought the urge to tease him for being so damned romantic, and shook his head disapprovingly instead. “You’re hopeless. Lucky for you, Cassie, I like you. I want you to be happy. So even though I think you are being a big freaking baby about this whole thing, I am going to help you.” Gabriel had to chuckle then, at the wary look on his brother’s face. “Don’t worry, it doesn’t involve you and Dean locked naked in the same room, though the thought _did_ cross my mind. Nope, I am going to tell you how to get out of this completely baby free.”

“But you said-”

“Apparently, the fourth time’s the charm. Knowing a couple pagan Gods and Goddesses specializing in fate and fertility doesn’t hurt either. I’m going to have to borrow the Hardy boys though, got too much going on upstairs to do the hunting myself, though I’ll do what I can. You sit tight, and try not to lose your mind in the next couple days, ok?”

“Hunting?” Castiel asked, his mind starting to go fuzzy again. “Hunting for what?”

“Nephilim, baby bro. Nephilim.”


	7. Chapter 7

Sam looked up as Gabriel exited the stairwell and strode toward him, he scrambled up off the floor, phone in hand. Gabriel smirked when it buzzed. “So is, uh, Deano still throwing a tantrum, or is he on board?” He gestured to himself.

“Uh...” Sam answered eloquently as Dean started banging on the wall again.

A muffled yell came from behind it. “ _Put my door back, you douchebag_!”

“Say ‘please’.” Gabriel called back, but Sam glared at him and shook his head. “Okay, fine.” With a flick of his hand, a door appeared in the middle of the wall, no more than a foot tall, at face level. Gabriel turned the tiny knob and pulled it open, revealing a thoroughly pissed off Dean Winchester.

“Does this look like Peewee’s Playhouse to you?” He gritted.

“Hey. I’ve been told I’m not high up on your list of favorite people, and you look upset. You get stabby when you’re upset. I’ll fix it when I leave.” Both hunters looked as if they were about to say something, but Gabriel continued before they could. “Now, do you want me to tell you how to get out of this mess you’ve got here? Or not?” Neither of them argued, so he went on. “This angel mating thing doesn’t go away. If Cas doesn’t meld his grace to someone, it will burn him up from the inside out. Unfortunately, it seems you boys’ stupidity and stubbornness has worn off on him, and he refuses to do so.” He conveniently left out the part where he had done the exact same thing, it was really besides the point anyway.

“So what do we do?” Dean asked, he felt ridiculous peering out from behind the small opening.

“Fortunately, Cas agreed to get over himself if he can do so without having to shoulder the mantle of fatherhood. Which, incidentally, he can do. If we can wrangle ourselves a nephilim.”

“Nephilim?” Sam asked while Dean shook his head.

“Cas killed the only nephilim.”

Gabriel looked amused. “According to Metatron, who was just a _fountain_ of truth, I’m sure. And anyways, it doesn’t have to be a full blood nephilim, a child or even grandchild of one will work too, but no more than three generations, got it?”

“But why?” Sam asked, and Gabriel groaned in annoyance.

“Aren’t you boys a little old for the birds and the bees talk? Can I at least assume you know how this works for humans?” He smirked when they simultaneously rolled their eyes. “Okay, I’m going to try to make this as simple as I can. Two angels make a new angel by merging their Grace, and then separating from the excess that is created. An angel in a vessel and a human can have sex, really _great_ sex, actually, but to make with the babies, they also have to merge soul to Grace. Nephilim, therefore have a half-soul powered with Grace. Well, usually. Sometimes they have less soul more grace, or vice versa, which is why they are technically forbidden. Imagine a being with little to no conscience, the powers of Heaven, and free will. It’s not pretty.

“Now, if an angel and a nephilim try to mate, the angel can merge its Grace with either the soul or the grace present, but neither one has the juice to create new life.” Sam was nodding thoughtfully, and Dean looked as though he understood, so Gabriel was content to leave it at that, but Sam was too curious not to ask another question.

“That makes sense, but they can mate with humans?”

“When humans mate, they don’t share souls, it’s purely physical, a new soul is just... created. The Grace of the nephilim isn’t required in a human/nephilim pairing, but the Grace still seeks out the soul of a partner, so the kids are born with Grace taking up some of the room where their soul goes.”

“So that’s why a second or third generation still can’t make it with an angel.” Dean concluded.

“Exactly. You’re smarter than you look.” He ignored the dirty look.

“How do you know all this?” Dean asked, suspicious.

“One,” he pointed at himself, “Archangel currently in charge of Heaven. Duh. Two, spending a couple centuries as the Norse God of mischief meant I bumped into my fair share of fertility Gods and Oracles. Let me tell you, you’ve never lived until you’ve been with a God who’s only domains are fertility and plowing, if you know what I mean.” Gabe wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, while Dean made a small noise of disgust and Sam shook his head in disbelief.

“Can we stay on task, please?”

“Yeah, yeah. Nephilim have somewhat longer life spans, so you’re going to want to start around 200 years ago? Look for things like telekinesis, premonitions, schizophrenia... sometimes they can tap into angel radio and people assume their crazy, or reports of healing abilities, stuff like that.”

“Why does it sound like we’re on our own here?” Dean accused. “Because I have _stuff_ to do... Responsibilities and whatnot. Heaven’s not gonna run itself. I’ll be digging up what I can up there, but angels don’t exactly send out baby announcements when they sire an abomination. You’ll have much better luck down here.”

“Actually,” Sam spoke suddenly, excited, “when we were trying to find out more about what was going on, we found a whole crap-ton of stuff about nephilim. Nothing helpful at the time, but there was a whole _file_ on suspected cases.”

“There, see? You already have a lead.”

“Great.” Dean replied flatly, “Can I get out of here now?”

“In a minute.” For a moment, Gabriel looked uncharacteristically worried. “We don’t really have a lot of wiggle room here, I don’t know how much longer Cassie can hold out. I know he’s strong, but he’s reaching his limit, you guys need to put everything else on the back burner.” Gabriel would never let it get that far. If it came down to it, he wouldn’t hesitate to take Dean’s door away again, with him and Cas shoved inside first.

Offended, Dean said, “Cas is family. Of course he gets top priority.”

Gabriel smiled at that. “Good. Well, check you boys later.” He tossed a wink at Sam and disappeared, Dean’s door instantly returned to normal.

****

The next couple days passed in a blur of old parchment and liquor. Neither of the hunters spent much time anywhere other than the library, chasing down the century old hunches of men long dead. Sam glanced side-long at the circles under his brother’s eyes. Dean had barely said a word since Gabriel left, unless it was necessary for the task at hand. He had been pursuing each lead they came across doggedly, and each one that dead-ended hit him hard. As far as Sam knew, Dean had not returned to his room at all, crashing only when absolutely necessary in an armchair for a few hours at a time. He hadn’t been to check on Castiel, either, and Sam wasn’t sure which was more troubling.

His laptop _chirped_ at him, and he hurried to his inbox to check his email. He had emailed a few different historians asking about the recorded deaths and births for any lead that looked promising, under the pretense that he was researching his family tree. One of them had sent a reply. His eyes skimmed the message quickly, and when he opened up the attached file, he found various scanned documents, including marriage licenses, birth certificates, and newspaper clippings, some of which he could tell had been crumbling with age. He sent a quick, very grateful reply back, and set to work.

Most of the info he had received was very old, and some of it useless, but between it and some creative computer work, Sam was able to put together a satisfactory timeline between the date on the Men of Letter’s file and now. He flopped back in his chair, away from the computer screen. “I think I’ve got one.” Dean looked up from his file expectantly, so Sam continued. “I mean, I just had a name and a date, but after some digging... Uh, Dhimitrios Kosta, from Greece. His mother claimed he had been ‘a gift from the angels’, and was never married.”

“That’s not really a lot to go on Sam...”

“I know, but get this, some 50 odd years after he’s born, he travels to the states. Once he’s off the boat, he starts going by Dmitri, and all of his new documentation says that his birthdate is 25 years _after_ the birthdate recorded in Greece, and there is no official record of his death.”

“Okay, I’m listening.”

“Well, long story short, Dmitri happens to have one living descendant, a granddaughter. Uh, Maya Kosta is pursuing a degree in wildlife biology in Maine, but, according to her Facebook,” he turned his laptop towards Dean, “She spends her summers in Michigan with her BFF.”

“Awesome.” Dean stood up and stretched, the muscles in his back popping from sitting hunched over for so long. He turned towards the door, “Text me an address.”

Sam moved to stand, “Wait. You’re going now?”

“I have to grab my bag, but yeah.”

“But, you’ve barely slept.”

“What am I looking at, Sam? A fifteen hour drive? And then fifteen hours back? Sleep is less important than time right now.”

“Okay, yeah. Well, let me--”

“No. You stay here. I need you to... hold down the fort, we can’t leave him here alone. I’ll go get the girl. I’ll be back late tomorrow night, or at the latest, the next morning.” Dean paused, struggling with the rest. “If you check on Cas, don’t... Um, I mean, try not to--”

“Don’t worry Dean, I will be keeping my distance.”


	8. Chapter 8

Dean drove until he couldn’t, pulling off into a carpool lot and reclining his seat to catch an hour of sleep. He woke with a start when the alarm on his phone chimed at him, and after a stop at a local Gas-n-Sip for coffee and a fill up, he was back on the road. Fifteen hours is a long time to be sober and alone with your thoughts, especially when your thoughts revolve around the fact that you will probably never have any measure of real happiness.

_Stop touching me. I don’t want assistance, Dean. Not from you._

It hurt every time he thought it, and he thought it a lot. Castiel’s voice pretty much played those words on an infinite loop in the back of his mind. _Stop touching me._ It shouldn’t hurt, not this much. He had always known he would never be good enough for Cas. _I don’t want assistance, Dean._ Cas was an angel, for crying out loud. Yeah, he had messed up sometimes, but he wasn’t broken, like Dean was. _Not from you_. The pain came from knowing that Cas felt that way too, and knew exactly how far below him Dean was.

_Stop touching me_. Dean swallowed thickly. _I don’t want assistance, Dean._ Castiel would rather a complete stranger touch him. _Not from you_. Literally any one else on the planet but him. _Stop touching._.. Which was just so God damned... unfair. _I don’t want assistance_... After everything they’d been through? After Hell, and the apocalypse, and freaking Purgatory? ... _from you_. It all ran together into one soul crushing notion.

_Stop, I don’t want you_.

The pain of it evolved into a hot anger, which was something Dean could better understand and control. Castiel didn’t want him? Fine. Dean would go and grab this Maya chick and bring her back. Whatever. Cas could go to freaking town, he didn’t care. He paid no attention to the wave of nausea that hit him whenever he involuntarily pictured it, Castiel’s hands running over the body a faceless stranger. He shook the image away. Once it was over, and Cas was back to normal, Dean would tell him to go... back to Heaven, or to Jupiter, it didn’t matter. Just somewhere away from him.

His phone went off, distracting him from his seething. He took a shuddering breath and answered. “What?”

“Jeez. Hello to you too, Sunshine.” Sam answered dryly. “Where are you?”

“Indiana.”

“You’re making good time.” Dean didn’t bother to respond, so Sam took a breath and ventured, “So, uh, I checked on Cas.”

Deans knuckles tightened on the wheel. “Yeah? How’d that go?” He couldn’t keep the cynicism out of his voice.

“Not great. He was...” Sam hesitated.

“What?” Dean snapped.

“Well, at first I don’t think he realized I was even down there, I thought he was sleeping, but then he started saying a bunch of stuff--”

“What stuff?”

“Well, I couldn’t make out a lot of it, and some of it was in enochian, but mostly...” Sam let the sentence hang, reluctant to continue.

“Sam!” He demanded. Sam sighed.

“Mostly he just said ‘I won’t,’ over and over, but he also... asked for you a couple times, well, he said your name.”

Dean winced, idly wondering at how something could hurt so much while also filling his chest with warmth. “Anything else?”

“Not really, something about not being worthy, or deserving better, but then he noticed I was there and screamed at me.”

“What did he say?”

“No, I mean, he just... _screamed_ at me. It kinda freaked me out, so I left.” Neither of them said anything for a moment, letting their worry for Cas permeate the silence. “Anyway, just wanted to, um, fill you in, I guess.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“You got a plan of action?”

“Nah, too many unknowns, you know? I’ll scope everything out when I get there, but I’m probably going to have to make it up as I go.”

“Alright, just be careful. There’s no way of knowing what kind of juice she’ll have.”

“I know, man. I’ll check in later.” He ended the call without waiting for a reply.

A few hours later, he found himself in a small, but bustling, town. His GPS led him off of the main street, onto a side street, and announced his arrival. He drove past the house, went around the block and parked just far enough away that he could survey the home inconspicuously. It was an old two-story home, with well kept gardens and lawn, though he could tell from the way the roof over the porch sagged just a bit that it was in need of a new roof. The city park and playground was situated only a block behind, and even though it was late in the day, the sidewalks were busy with young couples and small children. Not the best if she decided not to come quietly. He could always wait until late tonight and pull the ‘car trouble’ line, he supposed.

As he watched, a light in the room above the roof flipped on. Now and then he would catch the flutter of a silhouette on the curtains, but couldn’t tell whether it was who he was looking for. After a time, the light in the room turned back off, and Dean waited.

A young woman stepped out of the house, locking the door behind her. Dean glanced down at the picture Sam had texted him, and was sure this was the same girl. She walked casually down the sidewalk, smiling at a family as they passed. She stopped suddenly, rooting around in her bag and pulling out a cell phone and putting it to her ear with a wry smile as she started walking again. As she neared the Impala, bits of her conversation filtered in through the open window.

“...agree to that. You said _girl’s_ night. ... I swear if you say “city boys” one more time...” She laughed. “No, Mal, I’m not wearing _the_ dress. ... Because _the_ dress serves no purpose on girl’s night. ... Yeah, I know--”

She had gone too far for Dean to hear any more. He watched her cross the street in the rear-view mirror, and noted where she turned towards the main road. He started the car when he could no longer see her and did a U-turn to follow her. He drove past the street she had turned down, and went down the next one instead, allowing him to wait at each intersection to see her cross the street a block away. Eventually, she led him to an old (but apparently still popular) bar, stepping inside without hesitation. The wooden sign in front read “The Toasty Cockles Tavern” in peeling paint. Dean shook his head and parked the car.

He gave it a good ten minutes before he went in. He sat at the bar a few stools down from where she was sitting, sipping her drink and absently fiddling with her phone. Dean ordered himself a beer, and surreptitiously watched her from the corner of his eye. She was absently drumming her fingers on the bar, staring into space when her phone buzzed against the varnished wood. She glanced down at it, scoffed in annoyance, and then glanced around the room as if looking at it for the first time.

Dean saw his chance, and took it. “I know that look.”

“Hm?” She said, distracted.

Dean slid into the seat next to her, going into flirt mode. “Douchebag stand you up?”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “You could say that... My friend, Mallory, has been nagging me since I got here to come out with her, but now she says something came up.”

“Well, I hope it was important, if she’d leave you hanging for it.”

She chuckled good-naturedly. “That depends, on a scale of 1-10, how important is” she looked back at her phone, “‘the perkiest ass this side of Superior?’”

Dean laughed despite himself. “Sounds pretty serious.”

“Yeah...” It came out as a sigh. “What about you? Someone stand you up? Or are you cruising for chicks?”

“Nah.” He gave her the smile he knew would flatter and disarm her. “Well, I might make an exception.” She raised an eyebrow, amused, but carefully unimpressed, and he changed tactics. “But no, actually, just here to drown my sorrows.” He took another drink of his beer.

“Been there... Technically, it’s why I came out tonight. Mal says I’ve been moping, which is an unfair exaggeration, I think. You wanna talk about it?”

Dean looked at her face, all endearing honesty, and for a half second, he did want to talk about it. He shook his head, though, and said, “Nope.” He mentally shoved his heartache drama away, enough time for that when he knew Cas would be okay. A whole life full of regret and disappointment, but it didn’t matter, as long as Cas and Sam were happy and healthy.

“Fair enough. Oh! I’m Maya.” She held her hand out for him to shake, and he took it.

“Dean.” He answered, and then kicked himself for not using an alias. They talked for a while, Dean biding his time for the right opportunity to suggest they leave together. As they talked, Dean learned little things about her that made the guilt in his chest heavier, but he pushed it away. He learned that even though she spent most of the year in Maine, she still referred to Michigan as her home. He learned that having no family left (though she did not go into detail), she lived with her best friend Mallory and Mallory’s grandmother, who they called Ya-ya. When she wasn’t in school, she worked as a conservation officer at the Department of Natural Resources. He teased he for being a rent-a-cop, which she took with good grace.

Dean couldn’t stop comparing her to himself. She was about as different from him as you could get. She was about a head shorter than him, made of subtle, comfortable curves, where he was all hard angles. Her hair was the same shade as Cas’ and fell straight down her back, and her eyes were almost as dark as her hair. She had smooth, fair, peaches-and-cream skin, not a freckle in sight. He wondered it their differences meant Cas would like her, would let her touch him.

Her phone chimed, interrupting both her story, and Dean’s train of thought. She frowned.

“Bad news?” He asked.

Maya rolled her eyes. “Apparently, Mal did not make it with Captain Perky. I have been summoned for ‘ice-cream, man-bashing, and lamenting the loss of perfectly good man-ass.’”

“She made you come out, and now she wants you to give up _your_ chance at perfectly good man-ass?” He smirked when she gave him that unamused smile again. “What? I happen to have a pretty perky ass myself. No shame in it.”

Maya bit her bottom lip, thinking, then smiled conspiratorially as she typed out a response on her phone. She laughed when she got a reply. Dean asked her what it said, and she blushed. “Uh... ‘pics or it didn’t happen.’”

“Alright...” He hopped off his stool and turned away from her, pulling the edge of his t-shirt up so she had a clear view of his backside.

“What are you doing?!”

“What? She wanted a picture. Besides, I bet she says I’m better than Captain Perky.” He tossed her a wink.

“Oh my God.” She said in half amusement and half exasperation, but snapped the pic anyway, and sent it off without an explanation. She got a reply almost immediately.

_GURL. Get that boy naked. Right now_.

Sometime after that, Maya found herself being led outside to Dean’s car. She wondered for the thousandth time what the heck she was doing, but maybe Mal was right. Maybe it was time for her to let loose a little, take some risks and have a little fun. Her mouth dropped open when she saw the impala. “ _This_ is your car?”

“Yeah. It was my dad’s.”

Maya turned back to the car. “No way...” Dean pulled his pistol from his jacket, and brought the butt of it down on the back of her head, catching her as she crumbled and then laying her in the back seat.


	9. Chapter 9

When Maya came to, she was disoriented, and immediately wished she was still unconscious. Her head throbbed, she was laying awkwardly with both arms pinned beneath her back, and her mouth felt like it was full of cotton. She groaned and opened her eyes, trying to make sense of the rumble of motion and smell of leather. She was... In the backseat of a car?

“Morning.” Said a gruff voice from the front seat, and she looked into green eyes in the rear-view. She blinked heavily a few times and tried to sit up, but found she couldn’t. “Let’s keep the freak outs to a minimum, hm? The trunk isn’t exactly well ventilated, so I’d rather not have to put you in it. It’s a long drive.” It was then that she realized she could not sit up because her hands were bound behind her back, and her mouth felt like it was full of cotton because it _was_. Fighting panic, she managed to force herself up into a half-sitting position, noting that her ankles were also bound. She tried to push the gag out of her mouth with her tongue, but it was tied tightly behind her head.

Not giving in to the urge to cry, she made herself get angry instead. They had to stop eventually, and she was not the kind of girl to go meekly. She glared at his reflection in the mirror. When his eyes flicked back to her again, she made a noise against the gag, but the question was clear. “Why?” Dean gave no reply except a tightening in his jaw. He stared straight ahead, and pushed the gas pedal a little closer to the floor.

******

 

Many hundreds of miles later, Dean pulled the impala into the garage of the bunker. He was exhausted, sporting a split lip, and not looking forward to the next few hours. Dean got out of the car, Maya waking with a start. After the bathroom break fiasco, wherein he took an elbow to the face and almost lost her, he was much more wary, carefully avoiding her feet as she aimed them at his head. He wrapped an arm around her still bound legs and hauled her out, hefting her unceremoniously up onto his shoulder.

He carried her into the bunker and made for the stairs, running into Sam on the way. Sam looked incredulously at the girl slung over his brother’s shoulder, she was wriggling furiously, a steady stream of muffled curses coming out of her.

“Dean, what the hell?!” He moved to take the girl from him, but his brother stepped away.

“What?”

“When you said you got her, I didn’t know you meant you had abducted her!”

“How many people do you know that would sign up for this willingly? Come on, Sam, what was I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know, but you can’t just--”

“Yes I can.” He adjusted Maya, who had gone quiet, listening intently. “We’ve done worse.”

“No, Dean, I don’t know that we have.” He spun as Dean pushed past him. “Cas would not want this.”

Dean whirled, and abruptly dumped Maya onto the floor. “Yeah? There’s a whole Goddamn _list_ of things Cas wouldn’t want. I went and got what he needs, he’ll just have to deal.”

“Dean, if he found out that he...” Sam sighed. “Do you really think he would be able to deal? It would kill him.”

Dean grit his teeth. “You explain it to her, then, and when she says no, we can watch Cas die anyway.” He stalked out of the hall, slamming his fist against the wall.

Sam blew out a lengthy breath and then turned to the girl on the floor. “Hi. Maya, right?” She glared at him. “Right. Look, we don’t... I’ll make you a deal, I’ll cut that tape off of you and get rid of that gag if you promise to just hear me out.” He looked at the skeptical look on her face, and added, “I mean it. Just hear us out, and then if you don’t want to help, you can go.” She gave a tiny nod. Sam knelt down and pulled his knife out of his pocket, and she scrambled to push away from him with her feet. He held up his hands. “For the tape.” She stilled again, and he moved slowly and deliberately as he cut the tape off her ankles.

Once her legs were free, he stood, and picked her up off the floor and put her on her feet easily. She had to crane her neck to look up at him, and she watched him warily. He pulled the rag from her lips, and her tongue felt strange in her mouth. He gestured for her to turn, and then cut the tape away from her wrists. She rolled her shoulders and rubbed at her wrists without turning to face him.

Maya was mumbling something, and Sam leaned in to better hear her. “What?” He asked, concerned. She repeated herself, but he still couldn’t make it out, and leaned even closer. Without warning she threw her head back into his face and bolted down the hall. Because of his height, she only caught him in his jaw, but it was enough for him to stagger back and mutter a curse. Between his knowledge of the bunker and his long legs, she didn’t get far. He grabbed her around the middle, and she fought him.

“Jesus. DEAN!”

Dean appeared around the corner and snickered at the sight. “How’s that talk going for ya, Sam?”

Sam shot him a dirty look. “A little help please?!”

“What do you want me to do? You’re the one that untied her.”

Between the two of them, they were able to wrestle her into the other room and apply more duct tape, effectively confining her to a chair in the library. Sam sat across from her, and Dean watched from the doorway.

Sam waited until she looked at him, gingerly rubbing his jaw. “Ready to listen?” She huffed in response. Sam tried again. “Look, we’re still going to let you walk out of here, if that’s what you want, but first you have to listen and... keep an open mind. Can you do that?”

“Do I look like a couple’s councilor to you? Take your issues somewhere else.”

“We’re not-- ugh.” He looked at Dean who was wearing a look that said ‘I told you so.’ He looked back at Maya. “Hey. Our friend needs help. He needs _your_ help. Can you please, please, just listen.”

Maya tried to think of a scathing reply, but melted a little in the face of Sam’s puppy dog eyes. Her reply was petulant. “Well I can’t turn my ears off. What do you want?”

Sam’s face was triumphant as he launched into an explanation. “So, okay, get this...”


	10. Chapter 10

Maya had sat quietly throughout the entire tale. When Sam leaned back, apparently finished, she turned it all over in her mind. Finally, she said, “Is this a cult?” Dean made an exasperated noise behind her. “It is. Oh God. This is a cult, and you are _crazy_ people.”

“No.” Sam said, equally exasperated. “This isn’t a cult, and we’re not crazy.”

“Okay, so, let me get this straight, I’m a... a--”

“Nephilim. Well, descended from one.”

“And you need me to have sex with your friend, or he’ll die... Oh, and he’s an angel.” She paused to let Sam correct her. He didn’t. “No, that isn’t crazy at all. That is... the definition of sane.” Neither of the guys said anything. “That was sarcasm. Just, so you know.”

Dean rolled his eyes and Sam sighed. “Have you ever... been around when something weird happened?”

“Yeah, actually, there was one time... When TODAY happened. This entire thing is pretty fucking weird.”

Sam was losing patience. “No. Things you couldn’t quite explain, like things moving on their own, or visions, or healing abilities or anything?” She seemed to be actually thinking about it, and Sam allowed himself to hope until she started to shake her head.

“Um, my cat lived to be twenty-two?” Sam couldn’t tell if she was being serious. “Look, I don’t know what it is that you want from me. I’m sorry, I don’t have special powers. I’m just a girl, my grandfather was just a man from Greece, and I am not going into your basement and hooking up with your friend.”

“Okay.” Sam looked disappointed as he leaned forward and started to cut away at the tape.

“What? ‘Okay?’ That’s it?”

“I told you if you listened, you’d be free to go. You can stay, but you don’t have to. You’re probably tired, we have extra beds if you’d rather leave in the morning, or if you’re hungry the kitchen is right through there.”

She stood, but didn’t move towards the door, waiting for one of them to tackle her or something. Neither of them moved to stop her though. She figured it would be better to wait til daylight, if only because she wasn’t sure if this was one of those ‘send you out in the woods so we can hunt you down for sport’ sort of things. So she just said, “Restroom?” and headed carefully in the direction they pointed her in.

After spending many minutes locked in the bathroom, and having a well deserved freak out, Maya made her way back to the library, half expecting them to ambush her at every corner. She hesitated outside the door, listening. They were talking about her.

“--if she won’t.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure she won’t. She’s probably already on a bus.”

“Dean. I’m being serious.”

“Me too, Sam. I don’t know, okay? We’re out of options.”

Maya bit her lip, he sounded... lost.

“You could tell him.”

“No, Sam. Drop it.”

“No, Dean. I won’t. I don’t understand how you can be more afraid of rejection than you are of Cas dying. It’s stupid. If you would just--”

“NO, damn it. I can’t. You think me walking in there shouting ‘I love you Cas’ is going to just magically make everything better, but it’s not. Life doesn’t work that way for me. I don’t get to be happy, Sammy.”

“Dean--”

“I offered, okay?” The admission burst from him.

“What? But...” Sam was at a loss.

“Yeah. I offered, and he...” Dean sucked in a shaky breath, “he said he didn’t want me.”

“Man, I- I’m sorry.” Sam’s tone seemed more confused than anything else.

“So, yeah, officially out of other options.”

Neither of them said anymore, so Maya entered the room timidly and looked at Dean. She hesitated, wondering why she _wasn’t_ already on a bus. “His name is Cas?”

Sam answered her, even though she had been asking Dean. “We call him Cas, his name is Castiel.”

Maya chewed her lip and watched Dean very carefully. “You love him?” Dean tried to seem annoyed at the question, but then mostly just looked defeated and nodded.

Wow. Douche move on Angel boy’s part. Who tells someone they’d rather die (literally) than be with them? And why would she want to go out of her way to save him if he was an asshole? That is, if she believed any of this nonsense. Which, she reminded herself, she did not. One of them had driven across country to kidnap her specifically, odds were they had done the exact same thing to the poor schmuck who was currently tied up in their basement.

Maya tried to make sense of the last 24 hours, and failed. On the one hand, everything her captors did and said was absolutely insane. On the other hand... Even though it didn’t make any sense, and she couldn’t explain it, she didn’t think they were lying either, which meant they at least believed it to be true. A memory surfaced, of an injured doe at the rehabilitation center giving birth to a fawn that she could have sworn was stillborn, yet opened it’s eyes when she touched it’s face. She didn’t mention it. Maybe... She could feel their eyes on her, and crossed her arms over her chest. _Oh God, I’m crazy too_.

“ _If_...” She stressed the word. “If you can prove to me that you are telling the truth-- angels exist, and I’m what you say I am, and that you’re not just psycho-pervs with a really strange niche in the porno biz,-- prove it beyond any shadow of a doubt... Then I’ll- well, I’ll think about it.”

“Really?” Dean asked, genuinely surprised. He and Sam shared a look.

“Gabe?” Sam suggested, and Dean chuffed in irritation. “He’s about the best proof we’ve got...”

“Yeah, okay. Whatever. He messes with my room again, and it’s on your head.” He warned.

Maya watched the exchange, confused but admittedly curious. Sam went still and closed his eyes. After a beat, she turned to Dean, “W-What is he doing?”

“Praying.”

Maya’s laugh faltered when she realized Dean was serious. “You’re joking, right?”

“Nope.” Then he called over to Sam, “Hey, what are you doing, writing a novel over there?”

“Shut it, Dean.” Sam answered, opening his eyes and looking around expectantly.

Maya regarded them both as they held their breath and waited, she began to feel foolish for ever entertaining the idea that-- Maya’s mouth fell open. A man had materialized in front of her. He was grinning.

“Alright, boys! Look at you, getting something right for once! Gorgeous, too. Not that Cas will bother to appreciate that at all...” He pouted.

“What do you mean he won’t appre-”

Gabriel interrupted Dean by holding up a finger. “Sam. Remind me later I need to hire a chorus line.”

“O-okay?” Sam replied, confused.

“Good. Now. Let’s get this show on the road.”

“Actually,” Sam said quickly, “she hasn’t exactly agreed to help yet. Dean uh, accidentally kidnapped her, and she’s having a hard time accepting that we’re not psychopaths.”

Gabriel looked at Dean and then rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Right. Time for introductions then.” He turned to Maya, who only just then remembered to close her mouth, and held out a hand for her to shake. “Hey there. I’m Gabriel.” He held out a yellow tulip that bloomed when she took it.

“Wait. Gabriel? Archangel Gabriel? _Messenger of God_ , Gabriel?”

He looked pleased with himself. “The one and only. I also moonlight as Loki, Norse God of mischief, which is _much_ more fun.”

“But that’s it?” She asked incredulously, and he was taken aback, it was not a response he was used to. “I mean, no candles or chanting or ritualistic sacrifice?” She could feel herself getting angry. “Just a mental memo and you pop down here to see what’s up? _Millions_ of people pray, and they get squat. What makes _them_ so special?”

Gabriel fixed her with a stare, serious for the first time. “What makes them special? Take your pick.” He ticked a list off on his fingers. “Their 'family business'. Their suffering. Their perseverance and dedication. Their defiance and bravado. Their sacrifices. There are no two people more deserving of the attention and gratitude of Heaven than Sam and Dean Winchester.”

Both hunters were stunned into silence until Dean quipped, “Aw, Gabe, I didn’t know you cared.”

“Quiet Dean, don’t ruin the moment. I _can_ erase that from your memory.” He could feel Dean’s smirk and sneaked a look at the astounded look on Sam’s face. “Now, why don’t you boys make yourselves scarce. This lovely lady and I have some things to discuss before she decides whether or not to help us out here.”


	11. Chapter 11

Gabriel and Maya talked for a long time, and when he asked her for her thoughts on the matter, she heard herself hesitantly volunteering. Which is how she soon found herself edging carefully into the room where Castiel was being held, taking in a deep breath in an attempt to calm her trepidation. Her eyes skittered over the various sigils painted onto the walls of the dark room before settling on the man-- _angel_ , she corrected herself, in the center of the room. She swallowed, and considered getting the hell out of there. Seriously, this was batshit bananas, _what the hell am I doing?_ But then... Then she thought of all that Gabriel had told her; about Heaven, and angels, and Sam and Dean and Castiel, and she just couldn’t.

Castiel’s breathing was shallow and ragged, and his eyes seemed unwilling to focus. She took tentative steps towards the angel, and stopped just in front of him, feeling extremely out of her depth. Not that she was some picture of virtue or anything, she’d had sex before, but this... This was a horse of a different color. Gabriel had walked her through the gist of it, the angel half anyway, what needed to happen for Castiel to sate the urge to mate, and he had shown her, briefly, how to tap into the light inside herself. Her Grace. The thought of it was still strange.

She turned her attention back to the dark haired man before her. “Castiel?” There was no real force behind the word, and it didn’t travel far past her lips, so she cleared her throat and tried again. “Castiel? Can you hear me?” She spoke softly, reassuring. It was the same tone she used for frightened animals at the rehabilitation center. “I’m Maya. I’m... I’m here to help, if I can.” He didn’t make any reply, but talking made her feel less nervous, so she went on. “I’ve never really done this sort of thing... I mean, I didn’t even know about, well, anything really.” ‘ _Grace first_.’ Gabriel had said. “I’m going to try now, okay?”

She closed her eyes and reached for the brightness at her core. She’d felt silly when Gabriel pointed it out and told her what it was, she’d known it was there, but she’d figured everyone felt that same radiance when they closed their eyes. It had also been a surprise at how easy it had been, to find it and touch it. It bent to her slightest will, like a limb she never knew she’d had. As soon as she had a conscious hold on it, Castiel’s Grace flared into her field of vision. It seemed sluggish, and at times it flickered. Maya nervously sent a tendril of her Grace towards Castiel’s, almost in offering. Still he made no sign of acknowledgment or interest. She huffed, and pushed it closer, gently brushing it against Castiel’s Grace. At the contact, his head snapped back and he let out a low growl.

She pulled away, startled, and his growl turned to a whimper at the loss of contact. His Grace reached out languidly, in search of hers, so she pushed it back towards him. As soon as the two touched, his Grace pulled at hers so roughly that her knees buckled, and she fell against him. Castiel’s Grace was insistent, and for a terrifying moment it felt as it were consuming hers, taking it from her. She fought a well of panic, and quickly realized that he wasn’t _taking_ her grace, but _accepting_ it.

She marveled at that for a moment, and then wondered what to do next, at a loss. His Grace swelled, rolled around her urgently, and while she watched it in awe he groaned under her. She jumped a little, startled, having forgotten in her concentration that she had kind of fallen on him. His Grace pushed at her, insisting, but she didn’t know for what.

“Consent.” Castiel begged, panting. His chest rumbling beneath her hand with the word. She looked down at him, confusion written on her face. “Please. Consent.”

“I--” She looked at the thin line of her Grace pouring into Castiel’s, mingling with it and merging. Then she looked at the roiling mass of light around her. _Oh_. She created a space within the center of her own light, and accepted the Grace that poured inside it. As soon as she had, she was overcome with a staggering, palpable amount of relief, and could not make sense of it. As their two Graces bled into one another, he looked up at her face with tired but clear eyes.

_Hello_.

Maya looked down at him. She had heard him, but he hadn’t spoken. She realized then, that the relief she was feeling was his. She bit her lip and thought at him, _Can you hear me too_?

_Yes. We will be united soon_.

She looked up at the combined mass of their Grace, virtually indistinguishable. _I am doing it right_? She asked nervously.

He smiled. _Yes_.

The shock of relief was wearing off, and she felt a wave of warm desire roll over her. She flushed. _Is that you_?

He nodded. She felt another wave of hot want, her heart speeding up and her mouth going dry. _The bindings_. He thought at her. _Take them off_. She fumbled with the strap at his chest, and scrambled off him to undo the ones at his ankles. He panted and strained against the remaining straps at his wrists. She faltered, his need burning through her. _Hurry_. He urged, but the waves were coming quicker now, more intense, nothing but heat and need and ache. Forgetting herself in the onslaught of sensation, she straddled him and ground down on the hardness in his pants, slipping her hands into his hair and grabbing fistfuls of it. His hips shot upwards as he groaned out a curse. _My hands_. He insisted.

She turned in his lap and unbuckled one strap, his hand immediately moving to her hip as she turned to the other side. As soon as the leather slipped free of the buckle, he stood, lifting her effortlessly. She hissed at the shock of cold on her ass when he set her on the table, and had no time or care to wonder why she was suddenly very naked from the waist down.

She did not see when their Graces had completely merged, but she felt it. In the same moment, without preamble, Castiel pushed his cock into her. Again she was hit with that overwhelming, bone-shattering feeling of relief. Her body moved with his; her legs pulled him closer, her fingers dug into his shoulders, her head fell back and her breaths came in quick gasps. She was aware of all of it happening, but only belatedly. It was all just... secondary to the feeling of being merged with someone else.

Before, she had been feeling only his Grace’s relief at finding a mate, now, she felt it again, but also _Castiel’s_ relief at the heat being over soon, and the relief of knowing he would live, and the relief that his friends’ last memories of him would not be the wretched thing he had been. She felt _everything_ he did, down to the press of her heels at the small of his back. Maya knew Castiel now. Knew him like she knew herself. She could feel what he felt, and his thoughts were hers. It occurred to her that her thoughts were also his, but in knowing him, she could feel no shame or vulnerability. She sunk into his Grace, even as he sunk into her body, exploring him with a sense of wonder.

There was relief and gratefulness, but underneath that, she found regret and longing. She chased those feelings, though he tried to keep them from her. He could not. For an instant, she saw Dean’s face, and it was as if a dam inside him broke. She saw a barren expanse of landscape, filled with battle cries and littered with broken bodies and broken souls, and she knew that it was Hell. She watched as Castiel pulled a soul, covered in grime but still shining, out of the pit, and as he carefully reconstructed the body it belonged to.

She saw Dean stab Castiel in an old barn. Dean broken and bloody. Dean kissing a redheaded angel. Dean laughing hard outside of a strip club. Dean leaning into the Impala, covered in grease. Dean sleeping on a thousand different motel beds. Dean straightening Castiel’s tie. Dean killing monsters. Dean asking for help. Dean calling out from a copse of trees and wrapping Castiel in a hug. Dean dead. Dean alive. Dean with tarnished soul and black eyes. Dean angry. Dean drunk. Dean singing. Dean driving. Image after image. Dean. Dean. Dean.

The sheer force of emotion was breathtaking.  _You love him_ , she thought with awe. He could not deny it. _But... you refused him. You sent him away_. She tried to make sense of it, searching Castiel for an answer. She felt hesitancy and fear of rejection and sorrow. _But_ , she thought, confused, _he loves you_. She sensed his surprise at her confidence, and then prodding curiosity. _I can show you_. Maya thought back to the conversation she had eavesdropped on earlier.

_“You could tell him.” “_

_No, Sam. Drop it.”_

_"No, Dean. I won’t. I don’t understand how you can be more afraid of rejection than you are of Cas dying. It’s stupid. If you would just--”_

_“_ _NO, damn it. I can’t. You think me walking in there shouting ‘I love you Cas’ is going to just magically make everything better, but it’s not. Life doesn’t work that way for me. I don’t get to be happy, Sammy.”_

_“Dean--”_

_“I offered, okay?” The admission burst from him._

_“What? But...” Sam was at a loss._

_“Yeah. I offered, and he...” Dean sucked in a shaky breath, “he said he didn’t want me.”_

She skipped ahead.

_“You love him?” Dean tried to seem annoyed at the question, but then mostly just looked defeated and nodded._

Castiel pulled the memory from her again. And again. Focusing on the same parts over and over.

_“NO, damn it. I can’t. You think me walking in there shouting ‘I love you Cas’ is going to just magically make everything better, but it’s not. Life doesn’t work that way for me. I don’t get to be happy, Sammy.”_  

And,

_“You love him?” Dean tried to seem annoyed at the question, but then mostly just looked defeated and nodded_.

Over and over and over, until all she could hear was Dean shouting “I love you Cas” and herself asking, “You love him?” and watching Dean nod.

_He loves me_. She felt and shared his joy; pure, unadulterated joy, and a smile stretched onto her face. All of a sudden, her attention was sharply focused on the physical. Castiel’s hands firmly held her hips in place as he pumped into her, and between pants he whispered an endless stream of “He loves me. Thank you. Dean loves me.”

She felt his exultation too sharply to begrudge him the words, riding the high of his euphoria, though a trace of regret lingered, and she couldn’t be sure if it was Castiel’s for not being with Dean in this moment, or her own for taking his place. Maya pushed the thought away and focused on their bodies. She could feel the orgasm building, that sweet, sharp tensing at her core, and knew he must be close too. Her hands found themselves wound into his hair again, anchoring her to him as they both fell over the edge and their Graces shattered apart.

Castiel pulled back, slipping from her, and Maya felt the loss of him keenly. She forced her hands to unfist from his hair and placed them in her lap, blushing the whole while. She muttered an apology, and he shook his head, placing a small kiss in her hair to banish any insecurities. She slid off of the table, and swayed a little on her feet. Castiel steadied her, and said, “You will want to take it easy for a while. It can be very draining, utilizing that much of your Grace, especially the first time. You should sleep.”

She nodded, and shook her head to clear it. “I’m okay. Though, I uh, seem to be missing my pants.”

He chuckled. “I-- hm, I apologize. They don’t seem to have made it. Collateral damage, I’m afraid. Here.” She was suddenly wearing a pair of flannel sleep pants and standing in a completely different room. She looked up at him, confused. “This is my room. You need to rest now.”

Maya found she couldn’t argue, she was tired, so she laid down on the bed. The angel threw a comforter over her, and she looked up at him sleepily. “Cas?” She murmured.

“Yes?”

“Go get him.” She smiled. “And don’t take no for an answer.”

“Alright.” He said, smiling back at her. “I won’t.”


	12. Chapter 12

Castiel stayed until Maya was asleep, though it took no time at all, and then went in search of Dean. He found his hunter in the kitchen, methodically washing dishes. He took a quick breath, inexplicably nervous. “Hello Dean.”

Dean flinched slightly before glancing at him and turning back to the dishes. “Look at you. All patched up. Awesome.” His tone made it sound as if it was the opposite of awesome. “Where’s the girl?”

“Sleeping.” Castiel answered carefully, unsure of what Dean was really asking. “She’ll probably sleep for a while, today has been... taxing for her.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah. I bet it was a freaking trial. You didn’t answer my question. Where is she? Did you just use her all up and leave her on the floor?” His voice was shaking by the end, and he swallowed big gulps of air to steady it.

Castiel frowned, this was not going the way he’d anticipated. “I would hope you think better of me than that. I lent her my bed.”

Dean nodded, and his jaw tensed. “She’s in your bed.” He paused. “So what, is she your pet now?”

Castiel tilted his head. “Maya is a person, Dean.”

“Oh, so, your whore then.”

Castiel stiffened. “Do not be unkind. I know you are upset with me, but Maya has selflessly done me a great service, she does not deserve your disdain.” Dean did not reply, only dried his hands on a dish towel. “When she bonded with me--”

Dean whirled, and laughed bitterly. “Well, let’s hope this one is ‘profound’ enough for you.” He knew he was being erratic, but couldn’t bring himself to care.

He made to stalk past, but Castiel grabbed his wrist and stopped him. “You misunderstand me, Dean. I will always hold Maya in high regard, she has given me courage, but I have no wish to... to _keep_ her.”

Dean tried to read Cas’ face, and something in his eyes made Dean pause. “Courage? What do you need courage for?” Cas smiled a small smile, and stepped closer, still holding Dean’s wrist. For a fraction of a second, his eyes landed on Dean’s mouth, and it was the only warning he gave before softly pressing his lips to Dean’s.

Dean froze, dumbstruck, and when Cas pulled away his eyebrows knitted together as if he were trying to think through a particularly confusing line of logic. His mouth opened, but no words came out, so he closed it again.

“I needed courage for that. And, for this.” He took a deep breath. “I love you. I think I have since I crowed the words “Dean Winchester is saved” to the entire Heavenly Host, but I didn’t recognize it for what it was. I do now. I am sorry. I should not have sent you away, but I couldn’t imagine that you could actually--” He was distracted by Dean’s free hand seizing the front of his shirt.

Dean’s eyes searched his face. “W-what?”

Cas tipped his head, not sure which part had confused him. “I love you. I--”

Dean kissed him. He used the grip on his shirt and pulled him into it, crashing their lips together violently. Cas _hmm’_ d in surprise and parted his lips without any coaxing, welcoming Dean’s tongue. He sucked it into his mouth hard, sweeping his own against it and devouring the groan that slid out of his hunter. Castiel brought a hand up to Dean’s face, alternatively stroking the coarse scruff along his jaw with a thumb and teasing the fine hairs at the nape of his neck with long fingers. Dean melted at the soft touch, unfisting the angel’s shirt and flattening his palm, feeling the soft ridges of muscle beneath the fabric.

Castiel took the initiative, swiping his tongue along Dean’s bottom lip, and then nip, lick, kissing all across his jaw, down his throat and along his collar bone. He let his tongue dip into the shallow depression he’d been thinking about since he noticed it, and then kissed his way back up until he could pull an earlobe between his teeth.

“ _Mmm_. Wait, Cas--” Dean husked, and Castiel hummed a negative, ducking down to suck at his throat again. “We’re still in the kit-- _ooh_ , um... We should, _ah_!” Castiel’s hands found themselves snaking up under Dean’s t-shirt, fingers running along the hem of dark denim, teasing the sensitive skin of his abdomen. “We need--” Dean was interrupted again, this time with a deep kiss. He jerked away. “ _Bedroom_.” He growled. “ _Now_.”

Dean made to pull him through the bunker, but Cas tugged him back into his arms. With a smirk and a _whup-whuff_ , they were standing in Dean’s bedroom.

If Dean had been holding back before, he made up for it now, as if a closed door made all the difference. Dean’s breath stuttered, and he used Cas’ hips to yank the angel against him, his hands slipping around to grab at Cas’ ass. The need to feel Cas’ lips on his overwhelmed him, so he turned his head in search of them, the stubble on his face rasping against the angel’s, until he could claim his lips again. He attacked him with a kiss that held as much passion as it did years of longing and unfortunate circumstance. Dean relished in the clean, spicy taste of him. _Why did I wait so long for this?_

Dean pulled Cas to his bed, and they climbed onto it awkwardly, their lips never parting for longer than a gasp or pant. No matter how hard Dean tried to take control, he found himself giving in. Suddenly, they were both shirtless. “Hey, hey! No mojo!” Dean said, half teasing. “That’s cheating!” The look Cas gave him made his cock jump in his pants.

“I have waited long enough to have you already, Dean Winchester, I’m allowed shortcuts.” Dean swallowed, and Cas went on, running his hands along the hard lines of Dean’s chest. “When I saw you in here the other day...” He shook his head. “I should have claimed you then. I wanted to. I wanted you so much it _burned_ , but I didn’t know...” He suddenly looked uncertain. “You want this?”

“Yes.” Dean breathed.

“You are mine?” Cas watched Dean still, and then nod almost imperceptibly “Say it.”

Dean felt himself redden under Cas’ intense gaze, those blue eyes laying him bare. “I’m yours.”

The look on Castiel’s face was purely triumphant, and he lavished the hunter’s bare skin with soft touches and firm kisses. His hands roamed, caressing every scar and each rib, pinching both nipples; his fingers traced the shape of the pentagram inked into Dean’s skin, and his thumb dipped into the shallow scoop of his navel. Where his hands went, his mouth quickly followed, lingering in the places that made Dean shudder or groan or squeeze his eyes shut.

Castiel spent a long time tonguing Dean’s nipples, sucking them into his mouth and rolling them between his teeth. Dean made the _best_ noises then. Cas lifted his head to watch Dean’s face, and without looking away from those beautiful lust-blown green eyes, he slowly lowered his tongue and then _flicked_ it across one hardened peak. “ _Ah, Jesus, Cas_!” Cas smiled and moved on to other parts of the hunter’s body.

More than once, Dean tried to put his hands on his angel, only to have them knocked away. Finally in frustration, he snapped, “Come on man, let me touch you. I want to make you feel good too.”

“Oh, you will.” He said it with such conviction that Dean shuddered, how was it everything Cas said was such a freaking turn on? “Don’t be selfish Dean. Let me enjoy myself.”

Dean tried to figure out how wanting to make Cas feel good made him selfish, but as a tongue circled his belly button and then moved increasingly close to the button on his jeans, he caved. “Yeah, uh, okay. This is me-- _nng_ , not being selfish. Do your thing, Cas.”

Dean’s pants disappeared as Castiel scraped his teeth over a hip bone, leaving him in just his boxers, Castiel was enjoying the slow reveal, removing one article of clothing at a time, but too involved in the taste of Dean’s skin to physically bother. He could see Dean’s cock pressing, straining to be free of that last bit of cloth, which showed dark wet spots from the pre-come already leaking. He pressed his lips briefly to the fabric stretched across rock hard flesh before peppering kisses along the inside of a thigh. Dean made a strangled noise of protest as he moved away. Castiel tasted the inside of Dean’s knee, and then made his way back up to that last bit of clothing. Dean was propped up on his elbows, watching him intently. Castiel licked his lips as the boxers disappeared and Dean’s dick sprang free, bouncing against his stomach.

Cas pressed a chaste kiss to the base of the leaking cock in front of him, and Dean’s hips snapped up, trying to get more attention paid to his aching hard-on. Castiel held his hips down firmly after that, leaving light teasing kisses all over his hips and groin and heavy balls, everywhere but where he really wanted it.

“Come on, Cas, I’m dying here.”

Cas took hold of the base and pulled Dean’s cock towards his mouth. “Say it again, Dean.”

Dean let out a punched moan. “Please, Cas.” Cas licked the tip, tasting the drop of pre-come beaded there. “Oh, fuck, Cas...”

“Say it.”

“I- I’m yours.” Cas swallowed him down, all the way. “Yes! ... I’m yours, angel, all yours. Oh, yes. Yes. Fuck. Yours. Yes!” The litany continued as the angel sucked his cock with abandon, bobbing loosely while tonguing the head and then hallowing his cheeks and taking him deeper and deeper, until he was swallowing around the thick flesh in his throat. Dean’s thighs began to quiver, his hands fisting the sheets under him. Castiel pulled off him with a wet pop, and Dean whimpered, looking down at Cas disbelievingly. “Don’t _stop_!”

Castiel held three fingers up in front of Dean’s face. “Suck.” He commanded.

Dean thought about refusing, for just an instant, before realizing that was a stupid idea. He grabbed Cas’ hand, his thumb drawing small circles on the palm while watching Castiel’s face, getting a wicked notion. _Let’s see if I can’t break down that cool and collected thing he’s got going on here_. He licked his lips slowly, and happily noted the way the angel’s eyes tracked the movement. He pulled the fingers to his mouth, and with the flat of his tongue licked upwards, gradually wetting each one. He pulled the tip of the middle finger into his mouth, sucking lightly on the fingertip and nipping at the pad. Castiel’s mouth fell open, and he _mewled_ , spurring Dean on. He ran his tongue all over the fingers, gently, never pulling more than a fingertip into his mouth. He wriggled his tongue in between two of them, flicking at the skin stretched there.

" _Mmm_. Suck.” Cas said again, less commanding this time, and more pleading.

Dean smirked cockily. “ _You_ say it.”

Cas’ breath punched out of him, and he nodded. “I’m yours, Dean.”

“Damn right, you are.” Dean pulled all three fingers into his mouth and sucked at them wetly. Cas groaned and bucked his hips, losing his cool and forgetting himself for the first time. Dean barely refrained from fist pumping in victory, and drew them in and out of his mouth enthusiastically, imagining instead that they were Cas’ pulsing cock. He moaned around them, and Castiel pulled them from his mouth. “I want to taste you.” He said with a sigh, somehow knowing Cas would deny him.

“Next time.”

Dean didn’t have time to complain before the angel wrapped pink lips back around his weeping dick. Dean enjoyed the sight of that mouth stretched around him, sliding up and down tortuously slowly, and fought to keep his eyes from rolling back in his head, wanting to sear that image into his mind forever. He felt a spit slicked fingertip slip across his asshole and tensed reflexively. He forced himself relax as it circled his pucker, testing, teasing. He made himself focus instead on the feel of Cas’ tight mouth on his cock. Cas pressed the finger against his hole firmly, gradually increasing pressure until his flesh gave way. Dean’s body begrudgingly accepted the intrusion, with none of the smooth glide both of them had been expecting, the spit on Cas’ hands having cooled and mostly dried.

Castiel frowned when Dean let out a hiss. “This isn’t... I need--”

“In the drawer, there’s uh...” Castiel leaned across the bed, opened the drawer, and fished out a small bottle of lubricant. He gave Dean a calculating look, and raised his eyebrows. Dean’s whole body blushed. “Yeah, well, you know what they say, ‘Hope springs eternal.’ Though, when I bought it I was imagining this going a bit differently.”

Castiel settled back in between Dean’s legs and nipped at his thigh. “Were you? Hm.” He shrugged and smirked at him. “Perhaps you should have bought a bigger bottle.”

Dean chuckled at his sass. “Just get back to work before I decide to get selfish again.”

Castiel snapped open the lid on the bottle, and rolled a drop of the liquid between his fingers and thumb experimentally. He poured more onto his hand, thoroughly slicking his fingers, and then pushed Dean’s legs farther apart to drizzle some between them. This time, when the angel pressed a finger inside him, there was no hiss of pain, just a measure of discomfort. Cas sucked at the head of Dean’s dick to distract him from it, pulling him a little deeper into his mouth each time his finger pushed deeper into his ass.

Dean’s cock was leaking again before Castiel felt confident enough to try adding a second finger. Dean’s jaw clenched at the new width, but his hips still bucked slightly as he tried to fuck into the angel’s mouth. Cas groaned around the thick flesh and wriggled his fingers apart, working the muscles open. Soon, his two fingers were shifting in and out of Dean’s body easily, and Cas pulled away to watch as they sunk into him. He drew them back out, and watched avidly as he slipped them back in. Dean writhed and clenched around Cas’ fingers, making the angel’s mouth suddenly go dry.

“ _More_. Cas.” Castiel pushed in all three fingers, and Dean stilled for a moment before working his hips again. Cas looked up at Dean and stared. He couldn’t help it. Not with the way Dean’s eyes were screwed shut in concentration, bottom lip pulled between his teeth. Not with the way his skin flushed, making his freckles stand out starkly. And definitely not with the way his cock bounced with each jut of his hips, leaving a glossy sheen of pre-come smeared across his belly.

“Please, Cas. I want more. I need you.” Castiel nodded, sliding his fingers from Dean, unable to wait any longer anyway. He finally did away with the rest of his own clothes, and Dean sucked in a breath. “God. Cas. You’re gorgeous.” He pulled the angel up into a kiss, his hands finally allowed to explore. He wrapped them around Cas’ cock without hesitation.

“ _Unn_ , Dean.” Castiel pulled Dean’s hands off him, already too close to coming. He groped around until he found the bottle of lube and poured it onto himself, slathering his dick in it, and then lined himself up with Dean’s entrance. He looked up at his hunter, who gave a slight nod, and then he was pushing into him, biting back a groan as he tried to take his time. He marveled at the feel of hot silk clenching tightly around him.

Dean’s face was scrunched into a grimace, his fingers digging into Cas’ shoulders, and it took all of Castiel’s will power to pause his forward motion. “Should I stop?” He panted.

Dean shook his head and blew out the breath he was holding, trying to relax. “Don’t stop. I’m good. All the way.” Castiel continued his push forward until he couldn’t go any farther. Dean cursed softly as Cas bottomed out, and Castiel rested his forehead against Dean’s, both of them panting heavily. It wasn’t long before Dean started to wriggle under him, trying to get him to move. “Come on, Cas. _I’m good_. Move please.”

Castiel searched his face. “Are you in pain?”

“’s good pain, angel. Now, fuck me.”

Castiel pulled out a little ways before pushing back in, watching Dean’s reaction and trying not to be overwhelmed by the urge to completely lose himself in that slick heat. He moved tortuously slow, pumping in and out carefully until Dean grabbed fistfuls of his hair and pulled him close so he could growl into his ear. “I thought I said ‘ _fuck_ me’. I want to be yours, Cas. Make me yours.” Cas shuddered.

The angel pulled back suddenly. hooking one of Dean’s knees over his shoulder and slamming once, quick and hard into the hunter under him. Dean grunted in approval. “Yes. Just like that. Again.” Cas snapped his hips forward again, and Dean’s head fell back against the pillow. “Again.” Castiel gave Dean exactly what he wanted, again and again, until instead of “again,” he was crying “faster,” and “harder,” and Cas gave him that too.

Castiel was going to come. He could feel it building up, coiling tighter with each thrust of his hips and each sound from Dean’s lips. He grabbed Dean’s dick, pumping him with a still slick hand while pounding into his ass. Dean made a guttural noise of nonsense.

“Is this what you meant, Dean? When you told me to fuck you?” Dean couldn’t tell if he was mocking him or being serious, and he didn’t care. “You _are_  mine. You should come for me now.”

He did, crying out and shooting white splatters of come as far as his chest and chin, and then pumping more onto his belly and into Cas’ hand. The image of Dean coming so fantastically combined with the feel of him clenching down impossibly tight around Castiel’s cock took him right up to the edge and over it, and he jerked through wave after wave of pleasure, emptying into Dean and gasping his name. Dean pulled him into a messy kiss as Cas slipped out of him, and Dean chuckled as he collapsed haphazardly next to him.

They lay there for a long while without saying anything, waiting for their heartbeats and breathing to return to normal, staring at the ceiling and stealing glances at one another. Cas opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Sam’s voice from the other room.

“ _Uh, just so you guys know, these walls are ridiculously thin_.”


	13. Chapter 13

When Maya woke up, it took her a minute to figure out where she was and why, but as the memories bubbled to the surface the disorientation dissipated. She had no idea how long she had slept for, but she was still tired, and her body felt weak and achey, like the day after having the flu. She got out of bed and cracked the door, peeking into the hall, not sure what to expect.

The hall was empty, so after a quick trip to the bathroom, she padded out into the common room where Sam was sitting at one of the tables. He had a pile of books laid open on top of each other to one side, and his laptop open on the other. He stood up from the table awkwardly when he noticed her.

“Hey. You’re awake.”

She hugged herself, suddenly very aware of the borrowed sleep pants she was wearing. “Hey.”

“Are you... Okay?” Sam decided that was a pretty lame way to ask if she had a problem with everything they had put her through.

“No.” Sam looked at her worriedly, and she yawned and rubbed her eyes. “I need coffee.”

He huffed a relieved laugh. “There should be some already made up in the kitchen, come on.” He led her through the bunker, telling her about it and the Men of Letters as they went. When they made it to the kitchen, he stopped in mid sentence, Maya looked away from his face to see what had stumped him.

Dean stood at the stove, pushing scrambled eggs around a pan with a spatula. Castiel stood behind him, arms wrapped around his middle and pressing light kisses to his neck. Maya made a high pitched “Aw!” noise before she could stop herself. Dean saw her and Sam in the doorway, wearing matching grins, and halfheartedly rolled his shoulder to dislodge the angel. Castiel didn’t oblige him, only setting his chin on Dean’s shoulder in response.

Dean looked at Sam. “What?” He snapped, a blush tinging his ears and face.

“It’s just...” Sam shrugged. “It’s nice. To see you happy.” Dean made a noise of disgust, and turned to grab the toast that had just popped up. “Yeah, yeah. I know, no chick-flick moments.” Sam rolled his eyes and moved to the coffee pot, pouring a cup for Maya.

Castiel pressed one last kiss to Dean’s neck and finally backed away from him, moving over towards Maya who was pouring an unnecessary amount of cream and sugar into her cup. Dean watched them from the corner of his eye.

“How are you feeling?” Cas asked when she turned around.

“Good mostly. Tired. Hungry. Also exhausted.” She said it with good humor, but Cas frowned.

“You should go back to bed after you’ve eaten.”

Maya looked at the floor. “Actually, I should be getting back. If Ya-ya hasn’t called the National Guard yet it will be a miracle.”

Sam cleared his throat. “I, uh, might have texted your friend from your phone, pretending to be you. I told her you were fine and would tell her everything when you got home.”

Maya wanted to be mad about it, but one look at his guilty face and she couldn’t. It was for the best anyway, at least she wouldn’t have to go around town removing ‘Missing Girl’ posters. “What am I going to tell them? I’ll have been gone, what, three days since I left? They aren’t going to believe the truth.”

“Actually, it’s only been a little over 24 hours since you left the bar.”

“Well, I still have to get home, which is going to add another... I don’t even know how long. Where are we?”

“Kansas.” All three of them said it together, and Maya stifled a giggle.

“Kansas. Great.”

“I can fly you home, whenever you are ready.” Cas volunteered.

“Yeah, that would be faster... Somebody else is paying for my ticket though. I don’t have enough cash on me, and it’s... Well it’s he polite thing to do for someone you kidnapped.” She was only half joking.

Sam chuckled as he set the table. “No. He means, _he_ can fly you home. It would only take a few seconds.”

Maya took a seat in one of the chairs, letting that sink in. “Angel. Right.” She watched as Dean scooped a ridiculous amount of eggs onto her plate, and then looked at the three men who had taken seats at the table around her. “Your lives are weird.” All three of them smiled at that.

“Sister,” Dean said, “you are preaching to the choir.”

“No, but, I mean,” she pointed to Dean, “you abducted a perfect stranger,” She pointed to Sam, “you prayed to an Archangel, who _showed up_ ,” she pointed to Castiel, “and you almost _died_. And now you’re all just... sitting at the table, having a meal like a family.”

Dean shrugged. “We are a family.”

“Yeah.” She sighed, contemplative and a little regretful, though she didn’t know why. “I guess so.”

Once they had finished eating, and the table was cleared, the four of them stood awkwardly around the table. Castiel turned to Maya, “Are you ready?”

“I suppose.” She said with a sigh.

Sam came forward and handed her her phone. “I put our numbers in it, in case anything strange comes up.”

“Stranger than this?” She joked.

He laughed. “Any kind of strange.” Sam surprised her by pulling her into an awkward hug.

“Okay, Sam, thanks.” She said when he pulled away.

Dean stepped away from the counter he’d been leaning on and cleared his throat. “Uh, sorry, for uh, knocking you out and kidnapping you and whatever.” He said it with a smirk, but Maya could tell he was being serious.

“Well, all things considered, I forgive you, I guess. Just, uh, don’t do it again.”

He chuckled, “Yeah, okay.”

She bit her lip. “So, this might be the Stockholm Syndrome talking, but is it weird if I give you a hug?”

His smile widened just a bit, and he uncrossed his arms. “We live for weird, remember? C’mere.” Before he pulled away, Dean breathed a ‘thanks’ in her ear, and she nodded.

She turned back to Castiel. “I’m ready, I think.”

The angel nodded and came closer, placing two fingers to her forehead. She closed her eyes just before they made contact, and when she opened them, she was standing in the park behind her home. It was dark enough that the windows threw rectangles of yellow light across the lawn. It was late, and the park was empty. She looked up at Castiel and sighed. “Well, this is my stop.” He only looked at her, confused. She shook her head. “What am I even going to tell them?”

“I can alter their memory, if you wish.”

She looked up at him in surprise. “Um, no. Thank you, but I’ll figure something out. If Sam texted Mal, most likely she covered for me with Ya-ya, so it’s only Mal I have to worry about. I’ll just tell her I went into freak out mode after I recklessly hooked up with a stranger and needed to be by myself or something.” She shrugged. “I’ll make it work.” Cas nodded.

“If you are sure.”

“I am.” She hesitated. “Hey, Cas?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t want to... overstep my boundaries or anything, but I think you should tell Dean about what happened. With you a-and me.”

He frowned. “I don’t think Dean would want to have that discussion. He is averse to talking about many things, and I think that would be on the list.”

Maya shrugged. “You know him better than I do, but, as someone who spent the last 24 years human-- Well, _mostly_ human, I know that I would want to know. I would be driving myself crazy imagining all sorts of scenarios and just, ugh. At least... make sure he knows you’re willing to talk about it, okay?”

“Okay. I will. Thank you, Maya.”

“Good. I am going to go get the third degree from Mal, and then go to bed. You don’t think Dean will mind if I embellish our time together, will he?” She joked.

“No, as long as you make him sound good, I don’t think he will mind.” He smiled when she laughed at that. “If you ever need anything, remember that you can pray to me. Goodnight Maya.”

“Goodnight Castiel.” She blinked, and he was gone, so she started the short walk home.

*******

After Cas disappeared with Maya, Sam dragged Dean into the common room to distract him and show him the book he had found. It was written almost completely in Enochian, but from what Sam had been able to translate on his own, it looked to be almost like an encyclopedia of supernatural weapons. He could tell Dean was only half paying attention, but Sam couldn’t quite tone down his excitement about it regardless.

“Seriously though, Dean, _look_ at these illustrations! If we could get a hold of some of these... Or _make_ them, even--” The tell tale sound of wings interrupted him, and he looked up just in time to witness another intense staring contest between his brother and the angel. “Ugh. I thought you’d knock that off once you were together.” They quickly looked away from each other and Dean cleared his throat awkwardly. Sam rolled his eyes. “Anyway, Cas, do you think you could help me out with these translations?”

“Of course, Sam.”

Dean made his way to the door. “As much fun as that sounds, I’m, uh, going to go ahead and turn in.” He hesitated in the doorway. “Hey, uh, Cas, you going to head to bed soon?”

Cas didn’t look up from the book, turning a page carefully as he answered. “No, I should get started on this.”

Dean masked his disappointment poorly. “Oh, uh, okay. Yeah.” He turned and left the room.

Sam watched him go and then turned to stare incredulously at Castiel. “ _Cas_.” He said, exasperated. Cas looked at him curiously. “He wanted you to go with him.”

“He didn’t say--”

“I know he didn’t _say_ it. He’s _Dean_.”

“I- I no longer require sleep.”

Sam resisted the urge to slam his head onto the table he was sitting at. “I know that Cas. _So does Dean_.” He said the last part very carefully. _Please don’t make me say ‘my brother wants to have sex with you’ out loud_. Sam actually saw the realization hit him.

“Oh. Oh! I’m sorry Sam, I will start on this tomorrow. I-I am suddenly very tired. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Cas.” He replied shaking his head, but the angel was already gone. _God, give me the strength not to kill them in their sleep_.

********

Castiel lay back on the bed, utterly sated, tracing small circles on the shoulder of the arm currently wrapped around his middle. He marveled at how fantastically _thorough_ Dean had been, flicking back over the highlights in his mind. Dean had taken control and then had taken his time, exploring and claiming piece after piece of him. Dean had worshiped him absolutely; had scoured his skin with the brush of stubble, heated him with the lave of tongue, and then eased his desire with soft, careful lips, on and on, until Castiel was capable of nothing past fisting sheets and murmuring “Please, Dean. Please.”

He couldn’t help but remember reconstructing Dean’s body all those years ago, it had been like that, and also somehow exactly the opposite. At the time, with Dean rocking into him, he felt almost as if the hunter were destroying him, taking him apart bit by bit and feeding each piece to the fire of want that was consuming him. Yet, here he lay, whole and somehow more than he’d been before; tempered and polished by the fire and fueled by the memory of words breathed upon his lips, “Love you, Cas. So much.”

Dean’s head lay on his shoulder, tucked neatly under his chin, he was not asleep, though he was suddenly inordinately quiet. Cas, basking in the afterglow of what was most definitely going in his top ten most incredible experiences of his existence, did not notice right away. It wasn’t until Dean’s arms tightened almost imperceptibly around his waist that Castiel picked up on his almost melancholy mood.

Castiel frowned. “Dean?” He pulled his head back until the hunter looked up at him.

“Hm?”

“Is everything alright?” He paused. “That was enjoyable for you... right?”

Dean laughed and kissed him. “Yeah, Cas. ‘Enjoyable’ is one hell of an understatement. I’m fairly certain my Heaven is going to be just you and me doing different versions of that for the rest of eternity.” Cas beamed, and Dean settled his head back against the angel’s chest. He lay there quietly for a few moments, thinking. “Do you miss her?” The words fell out before he could stop them, and he felt Cas tilt his head in that perplexed way he had.

“Maya?” He asked, and Dean nodded. “Honestly, I have not given her much thought. Perhaps that is unkind of me, but she has not been away for very long, and you are thoroughly distracting.” He felt Dean grin at that, and it made him grin as well. “Are you asking me if I have feelings for her?”

“No. I don’t know. Do you?”

Castiel hesitated, not sure how to answer in a way that would allow Dean to understand. He thought of what Maya had told him. “If you’d like, I can tell you about it. It might ease your mind, but I don’t want to upset you or make you uncomfortable.”

Dean was quiet for a long time, thinking. Finally he sighed, “I don’t know, man. I just...” He blew out a long breath. “I can’t help but think-- Grace swapping or whatever-- something that- that intense wouldn’t leave a lasting impression. And, I mean, it’s not like that’s something I can do for you.”

“Dean. Of course you can. Well, not Grace, of course, but we can bond Grace to soul in the same manner. When we are prepared to start a family, anyway.”

That last part gave Dean pause. “Um. Excuse me?”

Castiel went on as if he hadn’t heard him. “I believe you will feel better if I explain it to you, but I will leave out the more graphic details, I think.” Dean was still trying to get his mind past the ‘start a family’ bit. “I’m ashamed to say I don’t remember much of my time in the dungeon, I’m not even entirely sure how long Maya was there before I came back to myself. I vaguely remember asking her to consent to the merging, but mostly I remember being relieved.

“It is very difficult to explain the feeling of being merged with someone else, I was her, and she was me, but we were also individuals.” He shrugged. “She knew I felt regret, and then she knew it was because I love you.”

“She knew? Didn’t that make her angry? Or hurt her feelings?”

“On some level, it did, but it is difficult to know someone so completely and not be understanding to the way they feel.”

They lay there quietly for a time, thinking. Finally Dean asked, “Then what?”

Castiel smiled. “Then... She thought I was an idiot. She told me you loved me. I couldn’t believe it, but she did, and I could feel her surety. She showed me a memory, she overheard you talking to Sam, and you said it. Then when she asked you, you nodded.” Castiel pulled back again so he could look Dean in the eye. “I pulled those memories from her over and over. I had never been so elated in the entirety of my life as I was the moment I heard you say ‘I love you Cas’. I didn’t care that it was a memory, or that you had been talking to Sam, as long as it was true.”

Dean didn’t look away. “It’s true.” Dean went willingly when Cas pulled him up for a heated kiss, and smirked when they pulled apart. “I thought I would feel like crap if I knew, but I don’t. I’m glad you told me.”

“I wasn’t going to.” Cas admitted, and Dean looked at him strangely. “I had assumed you would rather avoid the subject, as you are wont to do, but Maya suggested otherwise, and when you brought her up...”

Dean shook his head, and snuggled back up to his angel. “That girl deserves a medal. Maybe we should send her flowers or a stripper-gram or something.”

Cas chuckled. “Or something.” He pulled the comforter closer around his hunter. “Goodnight, Dean.”


End file.
